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y/z^rt.i^>fy  ^u^-ty^i^(!^€^c^^ 


SONdS  OF  PRAISE 

AND 

POEMS  OF  DEVOTION 

IN    THE    CHRISTIAN    CENTURIES. 

with  ax  introduction 
By     H  ENRY     COPPE  E, 

PROFESSOR    OF     ENGLISH     LITERATURE     IN    THE     ITNIVERSITY     OF     PENNSYLVANIA. 


ELEGANTLY  ILLUSTRATED 

WITH    SIXTY    STEEL     ENGRAVINGS    EXECUTED     IN    THE     FIRST    STYLE    OF     THE    ART. 


PHIL.\DELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED  BY  E.  H.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

187  2. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tlie  year  1865,  by 

E.     H.    BUTLER    &    CO., 

in  the  Clerk's  OflBco  of  the  District  Court  of  tlie  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


PR 


conte:n^ts. 


PAGE 

Introduction Editor 9 

Pilgrims  of  Jesus         .        ...        St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium    .  21 

Stars  of  the  Morning    ...             St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium        .  23 

Evening  Hymn St.  Anatolius               .  24 

God  of  God,  Light  of  Light  .         .             St.  Anatolius  .        ,        .        .  26 

Christmas-Tide St.  Anatolius       ...  28 

St.  Stephen's  Day     .....     Anonymous    ....  30 

Palm  Sunday St.  Andrew  of  Crete    .        .  33 

"Whence  Shall  My  Tears  Begin?  .         .     St.  Andrew  of  Crete        .         .  35 

The  Great  Fast St.  Andrew  of  Crete    .  37 

Christos  Anesti St.  John  Damascene        .        .  39 

Stand  on  the  Watch-Tower        .         .        St.  John  Damascene     .         .  41 

Let  Us  Rise  in  Early  Morning    .             St.  John  Damascene        .        .  43 

The  Furnace         .        ....        St.  John  Damascene     .        .  44 

Jerusalem         ......     St.  John  Damascene        ■        .  45 

The  Dawn  is  Sprinkling     .        .        .        Anonymous         ...  47 

For  All  Saints St.  John  Damascene        .        .  49 

Fix  Me  Firmly     ....         .St.  John  Damascene     .        .  50 

The  Dark  Mystery          .                 .         .St.  John  Damascene        .        .  52 

God  Comes St.  Theodore  of  the  Studium  53 

Christmas-Day St.  Cosmas      ....  55 

The  Express  Image      .        ...        St.  Cosmas  ....  56 

The  God-Man St.  Cosmas       ....  58 

Art  Thou  "Weary  ?       .         .        .        .        St.  Stephen  the  Sabite  .        .  60 

God  Blessed  Forever      .         .         .         .St.  Cosmas      ....  62 

Oh,  "^'ondrous  Mystery        .        .        .        St.  Cosmas  ....  63 

That  Fearful  Day          .         •         .         .St.  Theodore  of  the  Studium    .  64 

Adam's  Complaint        .        ...        St.  Theophanes    ...  66 

3 


CONTENTS. 


Teansfigueation  .... 
0  Faithful  Cross    ... 

BUEIAL   OF   THE   DeAD     . 

Deead  Feamee  of  the  Eaeth 

Sunday  

The  Passion 

O  Blest  Creator  .... 
Now  with  the  Rising  Golden  Moen 
His  Saceed  Feet  ... 

Hymn  foe  Confiemation 
Sunday  Moening  .        .        ■        ■ 

The  Ascension 

Maey  Magdalen  .... 
Jeeusalem  the  Golden    . 
Prayer  of  the  Contrite  Sinnee 

Rock  of  Ages 

St.  Feancis  Xavier 

In  Memoriam 

The  Singers 

Sleep        

The  Soul-Diege    .... 
Jairus'  Daughtee     .... 
Hymn  foe  All  Nations 

Litany  Hymn 

God's-Acee 

Cheistmas  Even       .... 
Echoes  of  Angels'  Songs     . 
The  Flowees  of  God 
Royal  Bannees    .... 
O  Life,  0  Death 

Resignation 

Have  Meecy 

Jeeusalem 

The  God  of  Love     .... 

Staeat  Mateb  Doloeosa 

A  Wkeath 


St.  Cosmas 

Anonymous 

Anonymous 

Caswell 

Caswell  . 

Caswell 

Caswell  . 

Caswell 

Caswell  . 

Brydges 

Caswell  . 

Faher 

Callanan 

Anonymous 

Anonymous 

Toplady 


Coppee 

Longfelloiu 

Mrs.  Browning    . 

A.  Cleveland  Coxe 

Willis 

Tupper  . 

Anonymous 

Longfellow 

Coppee 

Coppee    . 

Lyons 

Anonymous    . 

Trench 

Longfellow 

Trench 

Breviary 

Herbert 

Anonymous     . 

Herbert 


70 

73 

77 

79 

82 

83 

85 

86 

87 

88 

90 

93 

94 

96 

98 

102 

103 

104 

106 

109 

112 

117 

118 

120 

121 

123 

124 

126 

127 

128 

131 

132 

134 

136 

137 


CONTENTS.  5 

PAGE 

The  Silent  Towter        ....  Hawker 138 

Strive Winkler      ....  142 

Sunday Herbert 144 

Audi,  Tellus,  Audi          ....  Washburn  ....  147 

The  Cueate Goldsmith       ....  148 

Castles Harvey        ....  151 

God  in  Natuee Gerhardt        ....  152 

Jam  Mcesta  Quiesce  Querela         .         .  Washburn  ....  156 

The  Ceoss St.  Methodius          .        .        .  158 

God's  Woed Heber          ....  160 

To  Mont  Blanc     .         .                 .         .  Coleridge         ....  162 

Midnight  Hymn Hannah  More     .        .         .  166 

Teavellee's  Evening  Song  .         .         .  Hemans          ....  168 

The  Odor Herbert       ....  171 

.^TEENE  Reeum  Conditob     .  .  Anonymoxis    .        .        .         .172 

Love  of  Jesus C.  C.  Cox    ....  175 

The  Teavellee's  Return    .        .        .  Hemans          ....  176 

Daily  Beead Anonymous         .         .         .  178 

Nothing  Fair  on  Eaeth      .         .         .  Angelus          ....  180 

Onwaed Tersteegen   ....  182 

Geeat  Faith Keble 186 

Catechism Keble 189 

My  Father's  at  the  Helm          .         .  Anonymous    ....  192 

Abide  with  Me Lyte 193 

Cur  Mundus  Militat?          .         .         .  Washburn      ....  196 

Bitter  Repentance          ....  Keble 200 

A  True  Hymn Herbert 203 

Love  of  God C.  C.  Cox    .         .         .         .  204 

What  Went  Ye  Out  to  See?      .        .  Keble 205 

Dove,  Leaf,  and  Bow      ....  Keble 209 

Missionary  Hymn         ....  Heber 212 

Easter  Even            ....  Franck        ....  214 

Advent  Sunday Keble 215 

The  Purification     .....  Keble 219 

Work Mrs.  Browning        .         .         .  222 

Star  and  Sceptre Keble 224 

2 


CONTENTS. 


Whitsunday  .... 

Jot  IX  Heaves 

The  Lilies    .... 

St.  Stephen       ,         .  . 

Peatee  at  the  Pole    . 

St.  Agnes'  Eve 

Peaise 

The  Holy  Sepulchee 
Paevum  Quando  Ceeno  Deum 
Cheist  Risen    .... 
The  Reapees'  Retuen  Home 
The  Retuen  Home  . 
LoED,  What  a  Change 
Altitudo,  Quid  Hic  Jaces?     . 
The  Peodigal 
Lucis  Laegitoe  Splendide 
Natuee  and  Geace 
Recoedaee  Sanct^  Ceucis 
All  Angels  .... 


PAGE 

KehU 226 

Eeher          ....  228 

Keble 230 

Heber          ....  233 

Sallie  Bridges          .         .  234 

Tennyson    ....  237 

Anonymous     ....  239 

Eeber          ....  240 

Washburn       ....  244 

Anonymous         .         .         .  245 

Sallie  Bridges          .         .         .  246 

St  Joseph  of  the  Studium     .  249 

Trench 251 

Washburn  ....  252 

Trench 254 

Washburn  ....  256 

Keble 258 

Washburn  ....  261 
Washburn       .         .         .         .263 


4®-  "  The  fUngrrs,"  "  God's  Acre,"  and  " Xesignaiion,"  by  Professor  Longfellow,  arc  published  in 
Ihit  volume  vtith  tlir.  content  of  Messrs.  Ticknor  &  Fields. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


SUBJECT 

AETIST 

Title-Fage    

Whitechurch 

Pilgrims  of  Jesus    .... 

.     Franklin     . 

EvE2J^iNG  Hymn     .... 

Turner   . 

Christmas-Tide         .... 

.     Schmolze 

Palm  Sunday        .... 

Boherts  . 

The  Great  Fast      .... 

.     Schmolze 

Christos  Anesti    .... 

Schmolze 

Stand  on  the  Watch-Tower  . 

.     Schuessele    . 

Jerusalem     

Hall 

Those  Eternal  Bowers  . 

.     Hamilton    . 

God  Comes     

Schuessele 

Art  Thou  Weary?  .         .         .         . 

.     Franklin     . 

That  Fearful  Day 

Tamer   . 

Burial  of  the  Dead 

.     Schmolze 

Burial  of  the  Dead    . 

Schmolze 

Dread  Framer  of  the  Earth 

.     Schmolze 

Sunday  

Schmolze 

Paul  and  Silas        .... 

.     Schuessele    . 

Sunday  Morning  .... 

Schmolze 

Prayer  of  the  Contrite 

.     Schmolze 

St.  Francis  Xavier 

Schmolze 

The  Singers     .        .        .        .        . 

.     Schmolze 

Portrait  of  Mrs.  Browning 

Bead 

Jairus'  Daughter    .... 

.     Schuessele    . 

God's-Acre 

Schmolze 

The  Flowers  of  God 

.     Schmolze 

Resignation 

Schmolze 

Jerusalem         

.     Schuessele    . 

PAGE 
1 

21 

25 

29 

34 

38 

40 

42 

46 

48 

54 

60 

65 

74 

76 

78 

80 

84 

88 

96 

100 

104 

106 

112 

120 

124 

128 

132 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTEATIONS. 


StIBJECT 

ARTIST 

The  God  of  Love 

Schrnolze 

Silent  Tower 

.     Schmolze 

Silent  Towee        .... 

Schmolze 

SCNDAT       

Schmolze 

The  Cueate  

Schmolze 

Castles     

Devereux 

God  in  Natuee     .... 

Schmolze 

The  Cross 

Warren 

God's  Woed 

Devereux 

Mont  Blanc 

.     Schmolze 

POETEAIT   OF   HaNNAH   MoRE 

Opie 

POETEAIT   OF   MrS.   HeMANS 

.     Fletcher 

.^TEENE    ReRUM    CoNDITOR       . 

Schmolze 

Daily  Bread 

,     Schmolze 

Onward 

Schmolze 

Great  Faith 

Turner 

Catechism 

Schmolze 

Abide  with  Me        .         .         .         . 

.     Schmolze 

Cur  Mundus  Militat? 

Schuessele 

Bitter  Repentance 

.     Schmolze 

What  Went  Ye  Out  to  See? 

Turner   . 

Missionary  Hymn    .         .         .         , 

.     Schmolze 

Advent  Sunday    .... 

Hall 

Work 

Schmolze 

The  Lilies 

Schmolze 

Prayer  at  the  Pole 

.     Devereux 

The  Holy  Sepulchre  . 

Roberts  . 

The  Reapers'  Return     . 

.     Schmolze 

The  Return  Home 

Turner    . 

Altitudo,  Quid  Hic  Jaces?     . 

.     Franklin 

The  Prodigal       .... 

Ball       . 

Lucis  Largitor  Splendide 

Turner 

Portrait  of  John  Keble     . 

Richmond 

PAGE 

135 
139 
141 
144 
148 
151 
153 
158 
160 
162 
166 
168 
174 
179 
182 
186 
190 
194 
196 
200 
207 
212 
217 
223 
232 
235 
241 
247 
250 
252 
254 
256 
258 


INTRODUCTION. 

"Without  intending  to  present  an  essay  on  Hymnology,  I 
desire  to  offer  a  few  explanatory  remarks  as  to  the  volume  now- 
offered  to  the  public,  and  the  vast  field,  always  white  to  the 
harvest,  from  which  I  have  gleaned  my  little  sheaves. 

More  than  two  years  ago,  a  clerical  friend,  of  rare  culture 
and  delicate  taste, — who,  moreover,  always  delights  in  sharing 
newly-discovered  beauties  with  his  friends  and  fellow-scholars, — 
brought  to  me  a  copy  of  the  British  edition  of  Neale's  Hymns  of 
the  Eastern  Church.  We  read  it  through  with  great  delight 
in  one  happy  evening.  I  had  known  Dr.  Neale  as  the  trans- 
lator and  collector  of  the  Latin  Mediaeval  Hymns,  but  I  had 
not  before  seen  this  little  book;  and  although,  doubtless,  it 
is  known  to  many  students  of  hymnology,  I  found,  in  showing 
them  to  numerous  friends,  that  no  one  had  seen  them:  they 
have  not,  to  my  knowledge,  been  republished  in  America. 

Preceded  by  a  learned  introduction  on  Greek  Christian  poetry, 
the  hymns  are  chronologically  arranged,  and  a  short  account 
is  presented  of  each  author  and  his  age.  They  begin  with  the 
fifth  century,  represented  by  St.  Anatolius.  I  have  not  seen  the 
originals ;  but  if  the  translations  do  them  no  more  than  justice, 
they  are  beautiful :  if,  as  is  almost  always  the  case,  there  are 
vernacular  beauties  which  cannot  be  rendered  in  another  tongue, 
too  much  cannot  be  said  in  their  praise.  But,  considered  simply 
as  English  poems,  the  translations  are  admirable :  the  language 

3  9 


10  INTEODUCTION. 

is  simple,  and  the  expression  concentrated.  The  original  rhythm 
is  as  far  as  possible  retained,  and  thus  to  the  energy  of  the  Greek 
is  added  the  pleasant  ramble  of  the  old  English  ballad.  Of  this 
the  reader  may  judge  by  referring  to  almost  any  one  of  them. 
Take,  for  example,  the  "  God  of  God,"  beginning, — 

"  Fierce  was  the  wild  billow," 

or  those  beginning, — 

"Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid?" 

and 

"Safe  home,  safe  home  in  port." 

Some  of  them  rise  to  an  epic  grandeur,  as,  for  example,  that 
of  St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium,  of  which  the  first  line  is, — 

"  Stars  of  the  morning,  so  gloriously  bright !" 

Eanging  over  the  Christian  Year,  called  by  a  clerical  writer 
"  the  Zodiac  of  the  Church,"  varied  as  they  are  in  form,  sub- 
ject, and  historic  period,  and  yet  catholic  in  tone,  teaching, 
and  s[)irit,  they  serve  to  show  us  of  the  modern  age  how  the 
holy  souls  in  all  the  centuries  of  Christianity,  giving  devout 
utterance  in  "psalms  and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs,"  have 
made  the  same  "melody  in  their  hearts  unto  the  Lord,"  so  that 
when  brought  into  our  own  speech  we  at  once  make  them  our 
own ;  we  sing  tlnur  songs  as  if  we  had  always  known  them, 
and  thank  God  for  Ilis  goodness  in  their  own  beautiful  words, 
which  exemplify  "diversities  of  gifts,  but  the  same  Spirit." 

My  first  intention  was  merely  to  propose  the  reprinting  of 
this  little  volume,  that  other  Christian  men  and  women  should 
share  the  pleasure  which  T  had  experienced ;  but,  upon  even  a 
cursory  examination  of  the  hymnals  and  modern  collections  in 
my  possession,  I  found  large  space  for  a  new  volume  of  Songs 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

of  Praise,  in  which  Neale's  Eastern  Hymns  might  be  embodied, 
and  other  rare  and  beautiful  Christian  utterances  presented. 

And  as  the  gift-days  were  coming,  in  commemoration  of  that 
greatest  Gift  of  God  to  man,  it  was  thought  proper  to  prepare 
the  book  as  a  presentation-volume,  by  adorning  the  anthology  of 
sacred  poetry  with  the  rare  flowers  of  pictorial  art.  The  result 
is  this  truly  beautiful  volume, — a  Christmas  chant  to  the  new- 
born King  in  which  the  glorious  diapason  is  sounded  by  Chris- 
tian saints  in  all  ages,  without  one  discord  to  mar  the  catholic 
harmony.  Thus  much  to  avoid  misunderstanding  as  to  the 
character  of  the  volume.  It  is  not  a  general  hymnal,  but  a 
choice  collection  of  a  few  beautiful  and  not  common  hymns. 

A  hymnal  proposing  to  present  a  historical  picture  of  all  the 
curious  changes  in  Christian  hymnology  is,  indeed,  very  much 
needed ;  but  it  would  be  a  work  of  immense  labor,  demanding 
great  erudition.  It  would  clearly  mark  the  great  hymnic  periods 
in  the  history  of  the  Church,  and  the  causes  which  produced 
them.  It  would  show  why  the  Western  Church  was  still  desti- 
tute of  such  songs  in  worship,  while  the  Eastern  Church  had 
long  used  them,  not  only  in  her  solemn  services,  but  in  the 
mouths  of  her  children  by  the  hearth-stone  and  in  the  harvest- 
field.  It  would  take  us  back  to  St.  Jerome  at  the  monastery  of 
Bethlehem,  and  to  his  great  contemporary,  Gregory  of  Nazianzen, 
who,  doubtless,  in  their  four  years'  residence  together,  discussed 
and  promoted  this  great  element  of  worship.  It  would  inform 
us  of  the  circumstances  which  in  the  fourth  century  spread  these 
songs  of  praise  throughout  the  world. 

The  history  in  such  a  hymnal  would  be  rich  and  varied.  Great 
occasions,  great  enlargements  of  mind,  counsels  and  convocations, 
reforms  general  and  national,  have  created  a  demand ;  and  poets 
have  sprung  up  from  all  ranks  of  life  to  supply  the  deficiency. 


12  IXTRODUCTIOiSr. 

To  the  Fourth  Council  of  Toledo,  a.  d.  633,  is  due  the  honor 
of  having  enacted  that  hymns  should  be  used  throughout  the 
Western  Church  in  public  worship.  When  this  was  done,  it  was 
found  that  those  of  the  Eastern  Church  were  not  easily  trans- 
lated, and  that  the  West  must  prepare  its  own.  Then  emperors, 
kings,  and  popes  vied  with  each  other  in  this  holy  task.  Charle- 
magne thought  himself  honored  in  composing  hymns,  and  the 
churchmen,  from  pope  to  deacon,  were  prolific  of  sacred  poetry. 
Popes  like  Innocent  III.,  and  bishops  like  Hilary  of  Poictiers, 
paid  their  tributes  in  beautiful  verses ;  and  St.  Ambrose  insti- 
tuted choral  singing  in  that  Cathedral  of  Milan  which  was  in 
after-days  to  become  one  of  the  wonders  of  Europe. 

Thus  were  produced  such  poems  as  the  Te  Deum,  the  Dies 
Irce,  and  the  Stahat  Mater.  The  Church  in  all  ages  since  has 
embodied  such  strains  in  her  holiest  services,  and  thus  has  called 
upon  old  Judaism,  which  looked  for  Christ,  and  classic  oracle, 
which  groped  for  light,  to  acknowledge  the  might  of  Him  who 
was  at  once  King  of  the  Jews  and  King  of  kings, 

"  Teste  David  cum  Sybilla," 
Deep  calling  unto  Deep  in  the  soul  of  man,  in  all  times  and  in  all 
languages. 

In  such  a  hymnal,  the  increase  and  improvement  of  church 
music  would  be  set  forth,  as  a  powerful  instrument  in  awakening 
devotion.  We  should  see  how  rhyming  Latin  conquered  the 
ancient  classic  metres,  and  for  a  thousand  years  played  an 
important  part  in  the  worship  of  God.  These  Latin  hymns, 
ranging  over  this  immense  period,  and  the  work  of  many  gifted 
writers,  were  indeed  encrusted  with  errors  afterwards  established 
by  ecclesiastical  edict;  but  underlying  these  were  all  the  great 
truths  of  Christianity,  expressed  in  fervid  language,  and  shining 
through  the  gloom  like  diamonds  in  the  dark  mine. 


i:n'tkoductiox.  13 

Leo  X.,  the  unconscious  instrument  of  the  Reformation  by  his 
sale  of  indulgences  for  the  building  of  St.  Peter's,  here  also 
committed  a  fatal  error  for  his  cause.  He  frowned  upon  the 
rhymes  and  measures,  and  favored  a  return  to  the  classic  metres; 
but  he  could  not  curb  the  tide.  The  hymns,  and  the  manner  in 
which  they  were  presented,  had  met  with  universal  favor,  and  no 
papal  denunciation  could  consign  them  to  oblivion.  But  they 
are  not  to  be  tried  by  the  standards  of  the  Reformation,  which, 
properly  searching  for  their  faults,  foolishly  ignored  their  beau- 
ties. Many  of  them  are  narrative ;  not  a  few  are  legendary,  and 
even  fabulous ;  some  are  turgid  and  obscure,  like  the  Pange 
lingua  gloriosa  and  the  Vexilla  Regis;  but  not  a  few,  like  the 
Dies  Irce,  are  of  unrivalled  grandeur. 

The  principal  collection  of  the  Latin  hymns  is  found  in  the 
Roman  Breviary.  There  had  been  many  breviaries  or  divine 
offices  for  the  canonical  hours ;  but  these,  like  the  Uses  in  the 
reformed  Anglican  Church,  were  different  for  different  localities. 
The  Council  of  Trent,  which  established  the  doctrines  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  likewise  set  forth  a  Breviary  for  univer- 
sal adoption.  This  was  slightly  altered  by  Popes  Clement  VIIL 
and  Urban  VIIL,  who  thus  established  the  present  Breviary.  The 
French  clergy,  with  a  freedom  which  has  always  marked  the 
French  Church,  altered  and  rearranged  this,  to  constitute  what 
is  known  as  the  Paris  Breviary.  In  these  is  to  be  found  the 
wealth  of  Latin  hymns ;  and  to  them  all  collectors  of  the  best 
Christian  poetry  must  always  go. 

With  the  coming  of  the  Reformation  the  Latin  hymns,  already 
coldly  regarded  by  the  pope,  fell  into  temporary  disrepute.  Not 
only  was  there  the  natural  prejudice  of  the  reformers  against 
the  language  in  which  they  were  written,  and  against  the  errors 
which    they   contained,    but   the    great    awakening    seemed    to 

4 


1-i  IjMTEODUCTION. 

demand  new  poems  and  collections ;  and  each  nation  called  for 
the  best  in  its  own  vernacular.  Hence  there  have  occurred 
hymnic  periods  from  that  time  to  our  own ;  and  hymns  often  not 
as  good  have  replaced  the  old  hymns  which  for  so  many  cen- 
turies had  given  rapture  to  the  cells  of  hermits  and  monks,  had 
been  sung  by  missionaries  in  primeval  forests,  and  had  been 
uttered  with  the  last  breath  of  dying  saints. 

"We  cannot  pause  even  to  indicate  these  periods.  In  the 
EHzabethan  age  occur  the  names  of  Crashaw,  Herbert,  Vaughn, 
and  Wither ;  and  Luther's  noble  psalm-book  marks  such  an 
awakening  in  Germany.  A  later  period  produced  the  exquisite 
paraphrases  of  Addison;  and  Watts  poured  forth  his  devout 
spirit  in  a  large  volume  of  those  sententious  verses  which, 
notwithstanding  their  faults  of  diction  and  their  theological 
obscurities,  still  wing  the  devotions  of  millions,  on  Sundays  and 
working-days  alike,  throughout  the  world. 

It  is  no  part  of  our  purpose  to  refer  to  the  hymn-writers  and 
denominational  hymn-books  which  have  been  produced  since.  In 
most  cases  they  have  been  the  efforts  of  men  to  supply  a  need ; 
and,  although  they  have  failed  in  the  perfect  accomplishment, 
they  have  enriched  the  language  and  the  Church  with  most 
grateful  additions  to  its  hymnic  literature.  Such  Avere  the 
collections  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  and  of  Tate  and  Brady : 
such  were  the  efforts  of  the  Wesleys,  Montgomery,  and  Cowper, 

But  in  every  case  the  writers,  following  the  dictates  of  a 
special  creed,  have  presented  their  own  views ;  and  the  collectors 
have  made  their  books  according  to  the  predilection  or  prejudice 
of  each  sect.  Satisfied  with  a  sonorous  amen  to  accepted  theo- 
logy, they  have  often  lost  sight  of  poetical  excellence;  and  a 
morbid  feeling  has  been  engendered  which  excluded  the  beautiful 
simply  because  it  came  from  another  sect  than  their  own. 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

But  these  fallacies  have  wrought  their  own  cure ;  and  now, 
without  relaxing  their  efforts  to  produce  the  new,  Christian 
scholars  are  returning  to  the  good  old  paths. 

Ko  one,  to  our  knowledge,  has  yet  attempted  a  great  historic 
hymnal.  This  work  remains  to  be  done;  but  scholars  of  the 
present  age  have  touched  portions  of  the  field.  Among  these  are 
Caswell,  a  Roman  Catholic  clergyman,  whose  collection  comprises 
the  hymns  of  the  Eoman  Breviary  and  those  of  the  breviaries  of 
Paris  and  Cluny,  and  also  the  hymns  and  sequences  from  the 
Missal.  Dr.  jSTeale,  besides  the  Greek  hymns  mentioned,  has 
also  published  mediseval  Latin  hymns ;  and  many  writers  have 
given  English  renderings  of  special  Greek  and  Latin  hymns. 
Some  of  the  favorites  have  been  done  into  English  very  many 
times.  It  would  be  curious,  for  example,  to  collate  the  English 
versions  of  the  Dies  Irce. 

Although  not  directly  a  part  of  our  subject,  it  may  not  be 
amiss  here  to  set  forth  the  true  meaning;  and  character  of  a  hvmu. 
In  its  technical  Christian  meaning,  a  hymn  touches  its  Greek 
etymology :  it  is  a  poem  in  honor  and  praise  of  the  Deity ;  not 
simply  a  religious  poem,  but,  in  general,  an  address  of  penitence 
or  praise  to  the  Almighty.  "We  would  not  invariably  insist  upon 
the  form  of  apostrophe ;  for,  to  borrow  the  idea  of  the  British 
Critic,  humility  often  imitates  the  Seraphim,  who  veil  their  faces 
and  cry  one  to  another,  "Holy,  Holy,  Holy!"  but  it  must  be 
conceived  in  the  spirit  of  penitent  adoration  and  direct  ascription 
of  praise.  A  doctrinal  poem  setting  forth  the  formularies  of  the 
Church  is  not  a  hymn ;  nor  is  such  an  epic,  miscalled  eclogue, 
as  Pope's  sparkling  paraphrase  from  Isaiah ;  nor  is  a  homily  in 
verse,  nor  a  set  of  expository  couplets.  The  poem  of  Mont- 
gomery beginning, — 

"  Prayer  is  the  soul's  sincere  desire," 


16 


IKTEODUCTION. 


although  extremely  well  expressed,  has  no  element  of  a  hymn. 
Nothing  can  be  finer  than  the  verses  of  Cowper  beginning, — 
"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way  ;" 

but,  from  first  to  last,  it  is  a  solemn  lesson  to  man,  and  not  a 
tribute  of  praise  to  God.  In  proportion  as  a  religious  poem 
embodies  the  direct  idea  of  worship  it  approaches  the  technical 
model.  Such,  for  example,  are  many  of  the  psalms  of  David, 
still  used  by  the  Church  catholic  in  what  a  modern  writer  calls  a 
second  intention ;  that  is,  with  a  Christian  adaptation.  In  this 
view  of  worship  they  are  antiphonally  rendered  by  double  choirs, 
to  give  efiect  to  the  responsive  meaning  of  their  versicles.  Such, 
too,  are  most  of  the  hymns  collected  in  the  various  breviaries, 
now  generally  known  in  spirited  translations ;  and  such  are  many 
of  those  of  the  Eastern  Church,  to  which  we  have  already  referred. 

Deviating  somewhat  from  the  model  which  we  have  presented 
are  the  Latin  and  Greek  hymns  intended  for  acts  of  special 
worship  on  the  various  feast  and  fast  days  of  the  Church ;  which, 
besides  the  ascriptions  of  praise,  indicate  or  explain  the  character 
of  the  holy-day  which  they  are  designed  to  commemorate. 

Let  us  venture  to  add  that  a  hymn  should  be  simple  in 
language  as  well  as  fervent  in  thought,  and  should  avoid 
rhetorical  brilliancy  and  the  art  of  the  schools.  It  is  designed 
for  the  great  heart  of  Christendom,  and  not  for  the  cultivated 
and  scholarly  few.  Thus  it  has  happened  that  the  best  hymns 
have  been  produced  by  writers  of  mediocrity,  and  not  by  the 
world's  great  poets.  Milton's  magnificent  "Ode  to  the  Nativity" 
is  miscalled  a  hymn;  and,  although  the  greatest  of  English  poets, 
he  has  produced  no  hymn  which  is  a  universal  favorite;  while 
many  which  are  almost  anonymous  are  very  near  the  hearts  of 
all  Christian  people. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that,  in  the  modern  efforts  to  resuscitate, 


/NTRODUCTIOX.  17 

the  true  meaning  of  a  hymn  has  been  almost  entirely  lost  sight 
of.  We  know  of  no  collection,  at  least,  in  which  it  is  the  leading 
feature.  To  refer  again  to  the  hymns  of  Watts,  we  find  a  flood 
of  religious  poetry  doing  the  office  of  exposition  and  exhortation, 
threatening,  instructing,  and  alarming  the  sinner,  encouraging 
the  saint,  describing  the  joys  of  heaven  and  the  horrors  of  the 
second  death,  paraphrasing  the  inimitable  Scriptures, — worthy, 
indeed,  to  be  read  and  pondered,  but  certainly  not  designed  to  be 
sung  by  Christians  who  stand  up,  at  the  bidding  of  the  minister, 
to  "  continue  the  worship  of  Almighty  God."  And  yet  in  this 
indiscriminate  manner  have  the  books  of  psalms  and  hymns  been 
collected  in  the  churches.  We  do  not  include  in  this  condemna- 
tion any  collections  but  those  designed  for  worship.  The  truly 
great  work  of  Keble  is  a  series  of  poems  to  illustrate  and  com- 
memorate the  holy-days  of  the  Christian  year.  It  was  not 
designed  for  use  in  the  churches ;  but  each  poem  may  be  read 
with  profit  and  pleasure  as  an  exquisite  sermon  in  verse,  to  sup- 
plement at  home  the  church-services  of  the  day.  Were  it  not 
for  their  great  length,  however,  they  would  be  quite  as  appro- 
priate as  many  of  the  hymns  in  our  popular  collections. 

I  have  dwelt  thus  long  upon  the  character  of  the  hymn,  to 
correct  what  I  consider  a  prevailing  error ;  but  I  would  by  no 
means  exclude  all  the  poems  which  do  not  come  up  to  the  rigor- 
ous standard  proposed.  Only  let  every  one  of  them  have  an 
indirect  bearing  at  least  upon  the  topic  of  praise  to  God. 

We  must  enter  upon  a  new  hymnic  period ;  but  it  should  not 
be  characterized  by  frantic  efforts  to  produce  new  hymns.  We 
should  seek  to  use  the  great  wealth  which  is  now  our  inheritance 
by  carefully  studying  its  treasures  and  by  great  sagacity  in 
selecting  from  them.  All  new  hymns  should  be  subjected  to 
rigorous  criticism  before  beina;  admitted  to  common  use.     Of  one 


18  INTIIODUCTIOX. 

tiling  Avo  should  be  eareiul;  and  that  i,<,  in  our  first  presentation 
of  an  author  not  to  tamper  with  his  vit.-o,  Ijut  to  leave  it  as  ho 
wrote  it.  Such  tampering  is  oftener  done  by  sectarian  prejudice 
than  by  ignorance.  Thus,  the  beautifid  Litany  Hymn  of  the 
Episcopal  Church,  with  the  well-known  refrain,  "  Hear  our 
solemn  litany,"  was  barbarously  rendered,  in  one  collection, 
"Hear  thy  people  when  they  cry."  The  meaning  of  this  is 
evident ;  but  who  can  appreciate  the  ignorance  of  the  collector 
who  rendered  Cowper's  beautiful  lines, — • 

"Deej)  in  unfathomable  mines 
Of  never-failing  skill," 

SO  as  to  make  it  read,  "with  never-failing  skill,"  thus  losing  the 
finest  point  of  the  imagery?  It  unfortunately  happens,  however, 
that  the  alterations  improperly  made  at  first  remain  fixed,  and 
become  so  familiar  in  the  ears  of  the  people  that  a  return  to  the 
original  is  impossible.  Such  is  the  case  in  the  hymn  beginning, 
"Kock  of  ages,"  the  accepted  version  of  which  is  greatly  altered 
from  tlie  original  poem.  I  may  seem  to  violate  my  own  precept 
with  reference  to  this  very  hymn,  as  I  have  reproduced  it  from 
the  E})iscopal  Prayer-Book;  but,  if  T  have  erred  in  so  doing,  it 
will  bo  easy  i'or  my  readers,  thus  informed,  to  compare  it  with 
the  original. 

As  indicative  of  the  })revailing  spirit  of  the  times,  many 
Christian  bodies  arc  engaged  in  prej)aring  new  collections  of 
psalms  and  hymns  for  public  worship.  The  General  Convention 
of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  1862  appointed  a  com- 
mittee on  "Hymnody  and  Metrical  Psalmody,"  to  revise  and 
alter  the  psalms  and  hymns  at  the  end  of  the  Prayer-Book,  The 
committee  consists  of  six  bishops,  five  clergymen,  and  two  lay- 
men, and  will  make  its  report  in  18G5.  They  have  before  them 
an  important  work ;    for  the  need  of   revision  is  great.     The 


INTEODUCTION.  1',' 

psabns  in  metre  are  paraphrases,  by  no  means  so  good  as  tlio 
prose  version  of  the  psalter,  which  might  be  appropriately 
chanted  in  their  stead;  and  the  collection  of  hymns  is  faulty, 
in  my  judgment,  because  many  of  them  do  not  come  up  to  the 
standard  which  I  have  presumed  to  lay  down,  and  many  others 
are  far  more  valuable  for  their  devout  spirit  than  for  poetical 
excellence.  And  yet  it  is  true  of  both  these  classes  that  tliey 
have  so  identified  themselves  with  the  affections  and  devotions  of 
Christian  people  in  public  worship,  in  private  sorrows,  and  in 
holy  joys,  that  to  remove  them  would  seem  like  cutting  off  a 
dear  old  friend  oa  account  of  some  personal  deformity.  It  would 
be  a  thankless  and  disagreeable  office  to  illustrate  by  special  ex- 
amples :  any  one  that  we  might  take  would  have  many  admirers 
among  our  readers,  who  would  be  pained  by  such  an  analysis. 

But  to  return  to  this  volume.  A  few  beautiful  pieces,  old  and 
new,  have  been  brought  together  without  any  attempt  at  chrono- 
logical arrangement,  and  yet,  it  is  hoped,  without  a  discordant 
note.  It  is  but  a  reproduction  of  the  old  "Trisagion"  melody, 
sung  by  many  voices,  ancient  and  modern,  bursting  loudly 
from  the  great  heart  of  the  Church  to-day,  and  with  chimings  of 
mellower  tones  and  still  fainter  utterance  as  Ave  reach  back  to 
the  apostolic  times.  Here  are  voices  from  all  the  centuries  and 
from  all  branches  of  the  Church.  The  ''  Kyrie  and  Christe 
Eleison"  of  the  Greek  Church  chimes  with  the  "Confiteor"  and 
the  ''iVgnas  Dei"  of  the  Latin  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages;  and 
both  form  a  harmonious  chord  with  the  never-endins;  sonc-s  of 
the  Anglican  Church,  and  of  those  of  millions  of  Christians  of  all 
denominations,  who  sound  the  praises  or  implore  the  atoning 
mercy  of  Him  who  is  Cod  of  God,  Light  of  Light,  Very  God  of 
Very  God, — the  Lord  Christ. 

Most  of  the  poems  in  this  volume  are  hvmns ;  but  I  have  not 


20  IKTRODUCTIOK 

scrupled  to  introduce  other  religious  poetry,  to  give  a  pleasant 
variety.  The  Greek  hymns  of  Neale  are  most  of  them  marked 
by  their  Greek  captions :  many  of  the  Latin  hymns  will  be  recog- 
nized in  a  similar  manner. 

I  desire  to  express  my  grateful  acknowledgments  to  my  friend 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Washburn,  late  Rector  of  St.  Mark's  Church,  Phila- 
delphia, and  now  of  Calvary,  New  York,  for  his  admirable  and 
scholarly  translations  of  several  beautiful  Latin  hymns ;  and  I 
venture  to  express  the  hope  that  he  will  give  to  the  world  in 
book-form  his  researches  and  translations  in  that  field.  From 
other  friends  of  taste  I  have  received  suggestions  and  assistance, 
and  could  have  extended  the  volume  greatly  without  exhausting 
the  treasures  at  my  disposal. 

I  cannot  withhold  my  congratulations  and  thanks  from  the 
publishers  for  the  magnificence  of  the  art  illustrations,  for  the 
beauty  of  the  typography,  and  the  splendid  general  appearance 
of  this  volume.  The  first  impression  is  due  to  the  publishers' 
merits;  but  I  feel  secure  of  that  second  and,  I  hope,  more  lasting 
one,  which  will  be  made  upon  all  people  of  taste  and  piety  by  the 
perusal  of  many  of  these  beautiful  poems.  If  I  am  not  mistaken, 
their  devotion  will  be  rekindled,  and  their  taste  gratified.  They 
will  experience  a  new  pleasure  in  finding  themselves  brought 
into  a  new  communion,  bound  by  golden  links  to  the  saintly  and 
loving  hearts  of  those  "  holy  men  of  old,"  of  whom  it  may  be 
said,  with  no  irreverence,  that,  like  the  prophets,  they  spake  as 
they  were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Henry  Coppee. 


■^«^ 


J^ 


-S-aaJ-T 


.hp^X^"^ 


THE   PILGRIMS   OF   JESUS. 


0  HAPPY  band  of  pilgrims, 
If  onward  ye  will  tread 

With  Jesus  as  your  Fellow 
To  Jesus  as  your  Head  I 


21 


22  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Oh.   happy,   if   ye  labor 
As  Jesus  did  for  men  ! 

Oh,   happy,   if   ye 'hunger 
As  Jesus  hungered  then  ! 

'  The  Cross  that  Jesus  carried 

He  carried  as  your  due  : 
The  Crown  that  Jesus  weareth 
He  weareth  it  for  you. 

The  Faith  by  which  ye  see  Him, 
The  Hope  in  which  ye  yearn, 

The  Love  that  through  all  troubles 
To  Him  alone  will  turn, — 

AVhat  are  they,  but  vaunt-couriers 
To  lead  you  to  His  Sight? 

AVhat  are  they,  save  the  effluence 
Of   Uncreated  Light? 

The  trials  that  beset  you, 
The  sorrows  ye  endure, 

The  manifold  temptations 

That  Death  alone  can  cure, — 


What  are  they,   but  His  jewels 
Of   right  celestial  wortli? 

What  are  they,  but  the  ladder 
Set  up  to  heaven  on  earth? 


STARS    OF    THK    MORXING.  23 

0  liappy  build  of   pilgrims, 

Look  upward  to  the  skies, — 
Where  such  a  Hght  affliction 

Shall  win  you  such  a  prize  ! 

St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium. 


STARS   OF   THE   MORNINa. 

St.iRS  of   the  morning,   so  gloriously  bright, 
Filled  with  celestial  resplendence  and  light ; 
These  that,  where  night  never  followeth  day. 
Raise  the  Trishagion  ever  and  aye  : 

These  are  Thy  counsellors  :    these  dost  Thou  own, 
God  of   Sabaoth  !    the  nearest  Thy  throne  ; 
These  are  Thy  ministers,   these  dost  Thou  send. 
Help  of   the  helpless  ones  !    man  to  defend. 

These  keep  the  guard,   amidst  Salem's  dear  bowers  : 
Thrones,   Principalities,  Virtues,  and  Powers : 
AVhere  with  the  Living  Ones,  mystical  Four, 
Cherubim,  Seraphim,  bow  and  adore. 

■"Who  like  the  Lord?"    thunders  Michael,  the  Chief 
Raphael,    "the  Cure  of   God."   comforteth  grief: 
And,  as  at  Nazareth,  prophet  of   peace, 
Gabriel,   "the  Light  of   God,"  bringeth  release. 


24  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Then,  when  the  earth  was  first  poised  in  mid  space, 
Then,  when  the  planets  first  sped  on  their  race, — 
Then,  when  were  ended  the  six  days'   employ, — 
Then   all  the  Sons  of   God  shouted  for   joy. 

Still  let  them  succor  us ;    still  let  them  fight. 
Lord  of   angelic  hosts,  battling  for  right ! 
Till,   where  their  anthems  they  ceaselessly  pour, 
We  with  the  Angels  may  bow  and  adore  ! 

St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

The  day  is  past  and  over  : 

All  thanks,  0  Lord,   to  Thee! 
I  pray  Thee  that  offenceless 
The  hours  of   dark  may  be.-f 
O  Jesu !    keep  me  in  Thy  sight 
And  save  me  through  the  coming  night 

The   joys  of   day  are  over : 

T  lift  my  lieart  to  Thee, 
And  call  on  Thee,  that  sinless 

The  hours  of  sin  may  be. 


EVENING    HYMN. 


25 


0  Jesu  !    make  their  darkness  light, 
And  save  me  through  the  coming  night 


The  toils  of   day  are  ovei- : 

I  raise  the  hymn  to  Thee, 

And  ask  that  free  from  peril 

The  hours  of   fear  may  be. 

0  Jesu  !    keep  m<^  in   Thv  sight 

And  cruard  me  throuodi  tlie  comino-  niglit 


Lighten   mine  eyes,  0  Saviour, 

Or  sleep  in  death  shall  I ; 
7 


26  SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 

And  he,  my  wakeful  tempter, 
Triumphantly  shall  cry, 
"He  could  not  make  their  darkness  light, 
Nor  guard  them  throuo-h  the  hours  of   night 


Be  Thou  my  soul's  preserver, 

0  God !    for  Thou  dost  know 
How  many  are  the  perils 

Through  which  I  have  to  go  : 
Lover  of   men,  oh,  hear  my  call, 
And  guard  and  save  me  from  them  all ! 

St.  Anatolius. 


GOD  of  GOD,  LIGHT  OF  LIGHT,  VERY  GOD 
OF  VERY  GOD." 

^(Kfcfidq  Tpi/.u/xcac. 

FiEECE  was  the  wild  billow ; 

Dark  was  the  night ; 
Oars  labored  heavily ; 

Foam  glimmered  white ; 
Trembled  tlie  mariners ; 

Peril  was  high  : 
Then  said  the  God  of  God, 

—"Peace!     It  is  I!" 


GOD    OF    OOD.  27 

Ridge  of  tlie  mountain-wave, 

Lower  thy  crest ! 
Wail  of  Euroclydon, 

Be  thou  at  rest ! 
Sorrow  can   never  be, — 

Darkness  must  fly, — 
Where  saith  the  Ligiit  of   Light, 

—"Peace!     It  is  I  !"■ 

Jesu,  DeHverer ! 

Gome  Thou  to  me  : 
Soothe  Thou  my  voyaging 

Over  Life's  sea ! 
Thou,   when  the  storm  of   Death 

Roars,  sweeping  by, 
Whisper,  0'  Truth  of  Truth! 

—"Peace!     It  is  I!" 

St.  Anatolius. 


28  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 

[liyu  xrxi   TcapdSo^ov   Oau/ia. 

A  GREAT  and  mighty  wonder  ! 

A  full  and  holy  cure  ! 
The  Virgin  bears  the  Infant 

AVith  Virgin-lionor  pure  ! 

The  Word  is  made  Incarnate, 
And  yet  remains  on  hi-gli : 

And  Cherubim  sing  anthems 
To  shepherds  from  the  sky. 

And  we  with  them  triumphant 

Repeat  the  liymn  again  : 
"To  God  on  high  be  glory, 

And  peace  on  earth  to  men!" 

While  tiuis  they  sing  your  Monarcli 
Those  bright  tngelic  bands, 

Rejoice,  ye  vales  and  mountains  ! 
Ye  oceans,   clap  your  hands  ! 

Since  all  He  comes  to  ransom. 

By  all    be   He  adored, 
Thn  Iiifiuii    bdi'ii   ill    llctlili'licm, 

The  Sa\i(iin'  and   t\\o    Lord! 


CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 


29 


And  idol  forms  shall  perish, 

And  error  shall  decay, 
And  Christ  shall  wield  His  sceptre, 

Our  Lord  and  God  for  aye. 


A'- 


St.  Anatolius. 


30  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


ST.  STEPHEN'S  DAY. 

TcD   BaaiXsl  xai   AsffnoTrj. 

The  Lord  and  King  of   all  things 

But  yesterday  was  born  : 
And  Stephen's  glorious  offering 

His  birthtide  shall  adorn. 
No  pearls  of  orient  splendor, 

No  jewels,  can  he  show ; 
But  with  his  own  true  heart's  blood 

His  shining  vestments  glow. 

Come,  ye  that  love  the  Martyrs, 

And  pluck  the  flowers  of  song, 
And  weave  them  in  a  garland 

For  this  our  suppliant  throng : 
And  cry,  0  thou  that  shinest 

In  grace's  brightest  ray, 
Christ's  valiant  Protomartyr, 

For  peace  and  favor  pray ! 

Thou  first  of  all  Confessors, 
Of  all  the  Deacons  crown, 

Of  every  following  athlete 
The  glory  and  renown : 


ST.  Stephen's  day.  31 

Make  supplication,  standing 

Before  Christ's  Royal  Throne, 
That  He  would  give  the  Kingdom, 

And  for  our  sins  atone  1 


[With  the  above  stanzas  the  reader  may  not  be  displeased  to 
compare  the  celebrated  sequence  of  Adam  of  St.  Victor,  Heri 
mundus  exultavit,  which  has  never  yet,  we  believe,  appeared  in 
English.] 

Heri  mundus  exultavit. 

Yesterday  with  exultation 
Joined  the  world  in  celebration 

Of  her  promised  Saviour's  birth : 
Yesterday  the  Angel  nation 
Poured  the  strain  of  jubilation 

O'er  the  Monarch  born  on  earth. 

But  to-day,  o  er  death  victorious, 
By  his  faith  and  actions  glorious, 

By  his  miracles  renowned, 
Dared  the  Deacon  Protomartyr 
Earthly  life  for  Heaven  to  barter, 

Faithful  midst  the  faithless  found. 

Forward,   champion,  in  thy  quarrel ! 
Certain  of   a  certain  laurel. 

Holy  Stephen,  persevere  ! 
Perjured  witnesses  confounding, 
Satan's  Synagogue  astounding 

Bv  thy  doctrine  true  and  clear. 


32  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Lo !    in  Heaven  thy  Witness  liveth ; 
Bright  and  faithful  proof  He  giveth 

Of  His  Martyr's  full  success : 
Thou  by  name  a  Grown  impliest ; 
Meetly  then  in  pangs  thou  diest 

For  the  Crown  of  Righteousness ! 

For  a  crown  that  fadeth  never, 
Bear  the  torturer's  brief   endeavor ; 

Victory  waits  to  end  the  strife  : 
Death  shall  be  thy  birth's  beginning, 
And  life's  losing  be  the  winning 

Of  a  true  and  better  life.-';''  - 

Whom  the  Holy  Ghost  endueth, 
Whom  celestial  light  imbueth, 

Stephen  penetrates  the  skies  : 
There  God's  fullest  glory  viewing. 
There  his  victor  strength  renewing, 

For  his  near  reward  he  sighs. 

See,  as  Jewish  foes  mvade  thee, 
See,  how  Jesus  stands  to  aid  thee ; 

Stands,  to  guard  His  champion's  death  \ 
Cry  that  opened  Heaven  is  shown  thee : 
Cry  that  Jesus  waits  to  own  thee : 

Cry  it  with  thy  latest  breath ! 

As  the  dying  Martyr  kneeleth, 
For  his  murderers  he  appealeth, 
And  his  prayer  their  pardon  sealeth, 
For  their  madness  grieving  sore  ; 


PALM    SUNDAY.  33 

Then  in  Christ  he  sleepeth  sweetly, 
Who  his  pattern  kept  completely, 
And  with  Christ  he  reigneth  meetly, 
Martyr  first-fruits,  evermore  ! 


PALM   SUNDAY. 


Jesus,  hastening  for  the  world  to  suffer. 

Enters  in,  Jerusalem,  to  thee  : 
With  His  Twelve  He  goeth  forth  to  offer 

That  free  Sacrifice  He  came  to  be. 

They  that  follow  Him  with  true  affection 
Stand  prepared  to  suffer  for  His  j^ame : 

Be  we  ready,  then,   for  man's  rejection, 
For  the  mockery,  the  reproach,  the  shame. 

Now,  in  sorrow,  sorrow  finds  its  healing :   ■ 

In  the  form  wherein  our  father  fell, 
Christ  appears,  those  quickening  Wounds  revealing. 

Which  shall  save  from   sin  and  death  and  hell. 

Now,  Judea,   call  thy  Priesthood  nigh  thee  ! 

Now  for  Deicide  prepare  thy  hands ! 
Lo !    thy  Monarch,   meek  and  gentle,  by  thee  I 

Lo !    the  Lamb  and  Shepherd  in  thee  stands  I 


34 


SONGS   OF   PEAISE. 


To  thy  Monarch,  Salem,  give  glad  greeting 
Willingly  he  hastens  to  be  slain, 


For  the  multitude  His  entrance  meeting 
With  their  false  Hosanna's  ceaseless  strain. 
Blest  is  He  that  comes,  they  cry, 
On  the  Cross  for  man  to  die  ! 


St.  Andrew  of  Crete. 


WHENCE    SHALL    MY    TEARS    BEGIN?  35 


WHENCE  SHALL  MY  TEARS. BEGIN? 

lludev   cip^ofxa'.   ffpr^velv  j 

Whence  shall  my  tears  begin? 

What  first-fruits  shall  I  bear 
Of  earnest  sorrow  for  my  sin? 

Or  how  my  woes  declare  ? 
0  Thou,  the  Merciful  and  Gracious  One ! 
Forgive  the  foul  transgressions  I  have  done. 

With  Adam  I  have  vied, 

Yea,,  passed  him,  in  my  fall ; 

And  I  am  naked  now,  by  pride 

And  lust  made  bare  of  all ; 

Of  Thee,  0  God,  and  that  Celestial  Band, 

And  all  the  glory  of  the  Promised  Land. 

No  earthly  Eve  beguiled 

My  body  into  sin  : 
A  spiritual  temptress  smiled. 

Concupiscence  within  : 
Unbridled  passion  grasp'd  the  unhallow'd  sweet 
Most  bitter — ever  bitter — was  the  meat. 

If   Adam's  rig-hteous  doom. 
Because  he  dared  transgress 


36  .  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Thy  one  decree,  lost  Eden's  bloom        * 
And  Eden's  loveliness, 
What  recompense,  0  Lord,  must  I  expect, 
Who  all  my  life  Thy  quickening  laws  neglect? 

By  mine  own  act,   like  Cain, 

A  murderer  was  I  made  : 
By  mine  own  act  my  soul  was  slain, 

When  Thou  wast  disobeyed : 
And  lusts  each  day  are  quickened,   warring  still 
Against  the  soul  with  many  a  deed  of   ill. 

Thou  formedst  me  of   clay, 

0  Heavenly  Potter  !     Thou 
In  fleslily  vesture  didst  array, 

With  life  and  breath  endow. 
Thou  Who  didst  make,  didst  ransom,  and  dost  know, 
To  Thy  repentant  creature  pity  show ! 

My  guilt  for  vengeance  cries ; 

But  yet  Thou  pardonest  all. 
And  whom  Thou  lovest  Thou  dost  chastise, 

And  mourn'st  for  them  that  fall  : 
Thou,  as  a  Father,  mark'st  our  tears  and  pain, 
And  welcomest  the  prodigal  again. 

T  lie  before  Thy  door. 

Oh,  turn  me  not  away  ! 
Nor  in  mine  old  age  give  mo  o'er 

To  Satan  for  a  prey  ! 
But  ere  the  end  of  life  and  term  of   grace. 
Thou  Merciful,   my  many  sins  efface  ! 


THE    GREAT    FAST.  37 

The  Priest  beheld,  and  passed 

The  way  he  had  to  go  : 
A  careless  glance  the  Levite  cast, 

And  left  me  to  my  woe  : 
But  Thou,  0  Jesu,  Mary's  Son,  console, 
Draw  nigh  and  succor  me,  and  make  me  whole  ! 

Thou  Spotless  Lamb  divine, 

Who  takest  sins  away, 
Remove  far  off  the  load  that  mine 

Upon  my  conscience  lay : 
And,  of  thy  tender  mercy,  grant   Thou    me 
To  find  remission  of  iniquity ! 

St.  Andrew  of  Ceete. 


THE  GREAT  FAST. 

01)  yap   BkiTztiq  Tohq   TapdrTovraq. 

Cheistian,  dost  thou  see  them 

On  the  holy  ground, 
How  the  troops  of  Midian 

Prowl  and  prowl  around? 
Christian,  up  and  smite  them, 

Counting  gain  but  loss  : 
Smite  them  by  the  merit 

Of  the  Holy  Cross! 

TO 


38 


SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 

Christian,  dost  thou  feel  them, 
How  they  work  within, 

Striving,  tempting,  luring, 
Goading  into  sin? 


Christian,  never  tremble  ! 

Never  be  downcast! 
Smite  them  by  the  virtue 

Of  the  Lenten  Fast ! 


CHEISTOS   ANESTI.  39 

Christian,  dost  thou  hear  them, 

How  they  speak  thee  fair? 
"Always  fast  and  vigil? 

Always  watch  and  prayer?" 
Christian,  answer  boldly  : 

"While  I  breathe  I  pray:" 
Peace  shall  follow  battle, 

Night  shall  end  in  day. 

"Well  I  know  thy  trouble, 

0  My  servant  true ; 
Thou  art  very  weary, — 

1  was  weary  too : 

But  that  toil  shall  make  thee, 

Some  day,  all  Mine  own : 
But  the  end  of  sorrow 

Shall  be  near  My  Throne." 

St.  Andrew  of  Crete. 


CHEISTOS  ANESTI. 

Avaardaecjc;  rjfiipa. 

'Tis  the  Day  of  Resurrection 
Earth,  tell  it  out  abroad! 

The  Passover  of  Gladness ! 
The  Passover  of  God ! 


40 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


From  Death  to  Life  Eternal, — 
From  Earth  unto  the  sky, 

Our  Christ  hath  brought  us  over, 
With  hymns  of  victory. 


_3^SSJl^^2*>^  1^ 


Our  hearts  be  pure  from  evil. 
That  we  may  see  aright 


stajS'd  on  thy  WxItch-towee.  41 

The  Lord  in  rays  eternal 

Of  Resurrection-Light : 
And,  Hstening  to  His  accents, 

May  hear,  so  cahn  and  plain. 
His  own  All  Hail!   and,  hearing, 

May  raise  the  victor  strain  1 

Now  let  the  Heavens  be  joyful ! 

Let  earth  her  song  begin  ! 
Let  the  round  world  keep  triumph, 

And  all  that  is  therein  : 
Invisible  and  visible, 

Their  notes  let  all  things  blend; 
For  Christ  the  Lord  hath  risen, — 

Our  Joy  that  hath  no  end. 

St.  John  Da^iascene. 


STAND  OX  THY  WATCH-TOWER. 

iixX  rr^z  Bhaz  <fo).aySi<;. 

Stand  on  thy  watch-tower,  Habakkuk  the  Seer, 
And  show  the  Angel,  radiant  in  his  light : 

To-day,  saith  he.  Salvation  shall  appear,   . 

Because  the  Lord  hath  risen,  as  God  of  might. 

The  male  that  opes  the  Virgin's  womb  is  He ; 

The  Lamb  of  AYhom  His  faithful  people  eat ; 

Our  truer  Passover  fi'om  blemish  free  ; 

Our  very  God,  Y'Tiiose  Name  is  all  complete. 

11 


42 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


This  yearling  Lamb,  our  Sacrifice  most  blest, 
Our  glorious  Crown,   for  all  men  freely  dies 


H  ib«>i«nfJi^-. 


Our  cleansing  Pasclia,  beauteous  from  his  rest, 
Behold  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  arise. 


LET    US    RISE    IN    EARLY    MORNING.  43 

Before  the  ark,  a  type  to  pass  away, 

David  of  old  time  danced :    we,  holier  race, 

Seeing  the  Antitype  come  forth  to-day. 

Hail  with  a  shout  Christ's  own  Almighty  grace. 

St.  John  Damascene. 


LET  US  RISE  m  EARLY  MORNING. 

opffpctTco/iev   opduo   fia.dio^. 

Let  us  rise  in  early  morning 
And,  instead  of  ointments,  bring 

Hymns  of  praises  to  our  Master, 
And  his  Resurrection  sing : 

We  shall  see  the  Sun  of  Justice 
Risen  with  healing  on  His  wing. 

Thy  unbounded  loving-kindness. 

They  that  groaned  in  Hades'  chain, 

•Prisoners,  from  afar  beholding, 
Hasten  to  the  light  again ; 

And  to  that  eternal  Pascha 

Wove  the  dance  and  raised  the  strain. 

Go  ye  forth,   His  Saints,   to  meet  Him  ! 
Go  with  lamps  in  every  hand  I 


44  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

From  the  sepulchre  He  riseth : 
Keady  for  the  Bridegroom  stand 

And  the  Pascha  of  salvation 
Hail,  with  his  triumphant  band. 


St.  John  Damascene. 


THE  FUENACE. 

'(?   7:aJSa<;  ix  xaficvou. 


Who  h^om  the  fiery  furnace  saved  the  Three, 

Suffers  as  mortal ;    that,  His  passion  o'er. 
This  mortal,  triumphing  o'er  death,  might  be 
Vested  with  immortality  once  more. 

He  Whom  our  fathers  still  confessed 
God  over  all,  forever  blest. 

The  women  with  tlieir  ointment  seek  the  tomb. 

And  AVliom  they  mourned  as  dead,  with  many  a  tear, 
They  worsliip  now,  joy  dawning  on  their  gloom, 
As  Living  God,  as  mystic  Passover ; 
Then  to  the  Lord's  Disciples  gave 
Tlie  tidings  of   the   vanquislied  grave. 

We  keep  the  festal  of   the  death  of   death  ; 

Of  hell  o'erthrown  ;    the  first-fruits,  pure  and  bright, 


JERUSALEM.  45 

Of   life  eternal ;    and,   with  joyous  breath, 

Praise  Him  that  won  the  victory  by  His  might ; 
Him  Whom  our  fathers  still  confessed 
God  over  all,  forever  blest. 

All-hallowed  festival,  in  splendor  born  ! 

Night  of  salvation  and  of  glory !     Night 
Foreheralding  the  Resurrection  morn  ! 

When  from  the  tomb  the  everlasting  Light, 
A  glorious  frame  once  more  his  own. 
Upon  the  world  in  splendor  shone. 

St.  John  Damascene. 


JERUSALEM. 


<pwTiZou,   <p(uri!,ou. 


Thou  New  Jerusalem,  arise  and  shine  ! 

The  glory  of  the  Lord  on  thee  hath  risen 
Sion,  exult !    rejoice  with  joy  divine, 

Mother  of   God !    Thy  Son  hath  burst  his  prison. 

0  Heavenly  Voice  !     0  word  of  purest  love  ! 

"  Lo !    I  am  with  you  alway  to  the  end." 
This  is  the  anchor,  steadfast  from  above, 

The  golden  anchor,  whence  our  hopes  depend. 

12 


46 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


0  Christ,  our  Pascha !    greatest,  holiest,  best ! 

God's  Word  and  Wisdom  and  effectual  Might 
Thy  fuller,  lovelier  presence  manifest 

In  that  eternal  realm  that  knows  no  night ! 


St.  John  Damascene. 


THE    DAWN    IS    SPRINKLING. 


THE   DAWN   IS  SPRINKLING. 

Aurora  jam  spargit  polum. 

The  dawn  is  sprinkling  in  the  east 
Its  golden  shower,  as  day  flows  in ; 

Fast  mount  the  pointed  shafts  of  light ; — 
Farewell  to  darkness  and  to  sin ! 

Away,  ye  midnight  phantoms  all ! 

Away,  despondence  and  despair ! 
Whatever  guilt  the  night  has  brought. 

Now  let  it  vanish  into  air. 

So,   Lord,  when  that  last  morning  breaks 
AVhich  shrouds  in  darkness  earth  and  skies. 

May  it  on  us,  low  bending  here, 
Arrayed  in  joyful  light  arise ! 

To  God  the  Father  glory  be, 

And  to  His  sole-begotten  Son  ; 
The  same,  0  Holy  Ghost,  to  Thee, 

While  everlasting  ages  run. 


FOR   ALL    SAINTS.  49 


FOR  ALL  SAINTS. 

Those  eternal  bowers 

Man  hath  never  trod, 
Those  unfading  flowers 

Round  the  Throne  of  God : 
Who  may  hope  to  gain  them 

After  weary  fight? 
Who  at  length  attain  them 

Clad  in  robes,  of  white? 

He  who  gladly  barters 

All  on  earthly  ground ; 
He  who,  like  the  Martyrs, 

Says,   "I  WILL  be  crowned!" 
He  whose  one  oblation 

Is  a  life  of   love  ; 
Clinging  to  the  nation 

Of   the  Blest  above. 

Shame  upon  you,  legions 
Of  the  Heavenly  King, 

Denizens  of   regions 
Past  imagining  I 

13 


50  .  SONGS   OF   PEAISB. 

What !    with  pipe  and  tabor 

Fool  away  the  hght, 
When  He  bids  you  labor, — 

When  He  tells  you,— "  Fight !" 

While  I  do  my  duty, 

Struggling  through  the  tide, 
Whisper  Thou  of  beauty 

On  the  other  side  ! 
Tell  who  will  the  story 

Of   our  now  distress  : 
Oh,  the  future  glory ! 

Oh,  the  loveliness ! 

St.  John  Damascene. 


FIX   ME   FIRMLY. 

nxtpiiuaov  /ze,   Xpiari. 

"  On  the  rock  of  Thy  commandments 
Fix  me  firmly,  lest  I  slide  : 

With  the  glory  of   Thy  Presence 
Cover  me  on  every  side ; 

Seeing  none  save  Thee  is  holy, 
God,  forever  glorified  I" 


FIX    ME    FIKMLY.  5^ 

New^  immortal  out  of  mortal, 

New  existence  out  of  old  : 
This  the  Cross  of   Christ  accomplished, 

This  the  Prophets  had  foretold: 
So  that  we,   thus  newly  quickened, 

Might  attain  the  heavenly  fold. 


Thou  who  comprehendest  all  things, 

Comprehended  by  the  tomb, 
Gav'st  Thy  Body  to  the  grave-clothes 

And  the  silence  and  the  gloom  ; 
Till  through  fast-closed  doors  Thou  camest 

Thy  Disciples  to  illume. 

Every  nail-print,  every  buffet,. ' 

Thou  didst  freely  undergo, 
As  Thy  Resurrection's  witness 

To  the  Twelve  TKou  cam'st  to  show  : 
So  that  what  tliey  saw  in  vision. 

Future  years  by  faith  might  know. 

St.  John  Damascene. 


52  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  DARK  MYSTERY. 

liiya  TO  iJ.uffTi^ptov. 

"Christ,  we  turn  our  eyes  to  Thee, 

And  this  mighty  naystery ! 

Habakkuk  exclaimed  of  old, 

In  the  Holy  Spirit  bold, 

'Thou  shalt  come  in  time  appointed. 

For  the  help  of   Thine   anointed!'" 

Taste  of  myrrh  He  deigned  to  know 
Who  redeemed  the  source  of   woe  : 
Now  He  bids  all  sickness-  cease 
Through  the  honey-comb  of  peace, 
And  to  this  world  deigns  to  give 
That  sweet  fruit  by  which  we  live. 


Patient  Lord !    with  loving  eye 
Thou  invite st  Thomas  nigh ; 
Showing  of   that  Wounded  Side  : 
While  the  world  is  certified, 
How  the  third  day,  from  the  grave, 
Jesus  Christ  arose  to  save. 


GOD    COMES.  53 


Blest,   0  Didymus,   the  tongue 
Where  that  first  confession  hung 
First  the  Saviour  to  proclaim, 
First  the  Lord  of   Life  to  name ; 
Such  the  graces  it  supplied, — 
That  dear  touch  of  Jesu's  side  ! 


St.  John  Damascene. 


GOD   COMES. 


'0  K 


upco^  ep^erac. 


God  comes  ! — and  who  shall   stand  before  His  fear  ? 
Who  bide  His  Presence,  when  He  draweth  near? 

My  soul,   my  soul,  prepare 

To  kneel  before  Him  there  ! 

Haste, — weep, — be  reconciled  to  Him  before 
The  fearful  judgment  knocketh  at  the  door, 

Where,  in  the  Judge's  eyes. 

All  bare  and  naked  lies. 

Have  mercy,   Lord,  have  mercy.   Lord,   I  cry. 
When  with  Thine  angels  Thou  appear'st  on  high, 

And  each  a  doom  shall  herit 

According  to  his  merit. 

14 


54 


SO]N"GS    OF    PRAISE. 


How  can  I  bear  Thy  fearful  anger,   Lord? 

I,  that  so  often  have  transgress'd  Thy  word? 
But  put  my  sins  away, 
And  spare  me  in  that  day  ! 


s*>*M- 


0  miserable  soul,  return,  lament. 

Ere  earthly  converse  end,  and  life  be  spent 


CHKISTMAS    DAY.  55 

Ere,  time  for  sorrow  o'er, 

The  Bridegroom  close  the  door ! 

Yea,  I  have  sinned,  as  no  man  sinned  beside : 
With  more  than  human  guilt  my  soul  is  dyed  : 

But  spare  and  save  me  here, 

Before  that  day  appear ! 

Three  Persons  in  one  Essence  uncreate, 

On  Whom,  both  Three  and  One,  our  praises  wait, 

Give  everlasting  light 

To  them  that  sing  Thy  might! 

St.  Theodore  of  the  Studium. 


CHRISTMAS  DA^ 

Xpiardq  ye'/'^drai'   do^daare. 

Cheist  is  born !     Tell  forth  his  fame ! 
Christ  from  Heaven !     His  love  proclaim  ! 
Christ  on  earth  !     Exalt  his  Name  ! 
Sing  to  the  Lord,  0  world,  with  exultation ! 
Break  forth  in  glad  thanksgiving,  every  nation 
For  He  hath  triumphed  gloriously ! 

Man,  in  God's  own  Image  made, 
Man,  by  Satan's  wiles  betrayed, 
Man,  on  whom  corruption  preyed, 


56  ^ONGS   OF    PRAISE. 

Shut  out  from  hope  of   hfe  and  of   salvation, 
To-day  Christ  maketh  him  a  new  creation, 
For  He  hath  triumphed  gloriously  ! 

For  the  Maker,  when  His  foe 
Wrought  the  creature  death  and  woe, 
Bowed  the  Heavens,  and  came  below, 
And,  in  the  Virgin's  womb  His  dwelling  making, 
Became  True  Man,  man's  very  nature  taking ; 
For  He  hath  triumphed  gloriously  ! 

He,  the  Wisdom,  AVord,  and  Might, 
God,  and  Son,  and  Light  of  light. 
Undiscovered  by  the  sight 
Of   earthly  monarch,   or  infernal  spirit, 
Incarnate  was,  that  we  might  Heaven  inherit ; 
For  He  hath  triumphed  gloriously  ! 

# 

St.  Cosmas. 


THE  EXPRESS  IMAGE. 

TO)   Ttpb  TU)v   aiwvutv. 

Him,  of  the  Father's  very  Essence 
Begotten,  ere  the  world  began, 

And,  in  the  latter  time,  of  Mary, 
AVithout  a  human  sire,  made  Man 


THE    EXPRESS    IMAGE.  57 

Unto  Him,   this  glorious  morn, 

Be  the  strain  outpoured ; 
Thou  that  Hftest  up  our  horn, 

Holy  art  thou,   Lord  ! 

The  earthly  Adam,   ere  while  quickened 
By  the  blest  breath  of  God  on  high, 
jSTow  made  the  victim  of   corruption, 
By  woman's  guile  betrayed  to  die, 
He,  deceived  by  woman's  part, 

Supplication  poured  ; 
Thou  Who  in  mv  nature  art, 
'    Holy  art  Thou,  Lord  ! 

Thou,  Jesus  Christ,  wast  consubstantial 

AVith  this  our  perishable  clay. 
And,  by  assuming  earthly  nature, 
Exaltedst  it  to  heavenly  day. 

Thou  That  wast  as  mortal  born. 

Being  God  adored. 
Thou  That  liftest  up  our  horn, 
Holy  art  Thou,  Lord ! 

Rejoice,  0  Bethlehem,  the  city 

Whence  Judah's  monarchs  had  their  birth ; 
Where  He  that  sitteth  on  the  Cherubs, 
The  King  of   Israel,   came  on  earth  : 
Manifested  this  blest  morn, 

As  of  old  time  never, 
He  hath  lifted  up  our  horn, 
He  shall  reign  forever ! 

St.  Cosmas. 

15 


58  SOI^GS    OF    PEAISE. 


THE   GOD-MAN. 

'Pdi3o()<;   i/.   ri;c  piXr^q. 

Rod  of  the  Root  of  Jesse, 

Thou,   Flower  of   Mary  born, 
From  that  thick  shady  mountain 

Cam'st  glorious  forth  this  morn  : 
Of  her,  the  Ever  A^irgin, 

Incarnate  wast  Thou  made, 
The  immaterial  Essence, 

The  God  by  all  obeyed ! 

Glory,  Lord,  Thy  servants  pay 
To  thy  wondrous  might  to-day ! 

The  Gentiles'  expectation, 

Whom  Jacob's  words  foretell, 
Who  Syria's  pride  shalt  vanquish, 

Samaria's  power  shalt  quell ; 
Thou  from  the  Root  of   Judah 

Like  some  fair  plant  dost  spring, 
To  turn  old  Gentile  error 

To  Thee,  its  God  and  King! 

Glory,  Lord,  Thy  servants  pay 
To  Thy  "wondrous  might  to-day 


THE    GOD-MAX.  59 

In  Balaam's  ancient  vision 

The  Eastern  seers  were  skilled; 
They  marked  the  constellations, 

And  joy  their  spirits  filled ; 
For  Thou,  bright  Star  of  Jacob, 

Arising  in  Thy  might, 
Didst  call  these  Gentile  first-fruits 

To  worship  in  Thy 'light. 

They,  in  holy  reverence  bent, 
Gifts  acceptable  present. 

As  on  a  fleece  descending 

The  gentle  dews  distil, 
As  drops  the  earth  that  water, 

The  Virgin  didst  Thou  fill. 

o 

For  Media,  leagued  with  Sheba, 

Falls  down  and  worships  Thee  : 
Tarshish  and  Ethiopia, 
The  Isles  and  Arabv. 

Glory,  Lord,  Thy  servants  pay 
To  Thy  wondrous  might  to-day  ! 

St.  Cos:!Jas. 


60 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


Atk-,, 


f^''^^  1^'      ,^ 


^- 


'if 


ART  THOU   WEARY? 


xStzov   Tc   y.ai  xdaarov. 


Art  tliou  weary,  art  thou  languid. 

Art  tlioii  sore  distrest? 
"Come  to  Me," — saith  One, — "and,  coming, 
Be  at  rest !" 


ART    THOU    WEARY?  61 

Hath  He  marks  to  lead  me  to  Him, 

If   He  be  my  Guide  ? 
"In  His  Feet  and  Hands  are  Wound-prints, 
And  His  Side." 

Is  there  Diadem,  as  Monarch, 

That  His  Brow  -adorns? 
"  Yea,  a  Crown,  in  very  surety, — 
But  of  Thorns !" 

If   I  find  Hull,  if   I  follow, 
What  His  guerdon  here  ? 
"  Many  a  sorrow,  many  a  labor. 
Many  a  tear." 

If   I  still  hold  closely  to  Him, 

What  hath  He  at  last? 
"Sorrow  vanquished,  labor  ended, 
Jordan  past !" 

If  I  ask  Him  to  receive  me, 

Will  He  say  me  nay? 
"Not  till  earth,  and  not  till  heaven 
Pass  away !" 

Finding,  following,  keeping,  struggling, 

Is  He  sure  to  bless  ? 
"  Angels,  Martyrs,  Prophets,  Virgins, 
Answer,  Yes !" 

St.  Stephen  the  Sabaite. 

16 


62  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


GOD  BLESSED   FOREVEH. 

oi  TzalSsq  suffsjjsia. 

The  Holy  Cliildren  boldly  stand 
Against  the  tyrant's  dread  command : 
The  kindled  fonace  they  defy, — 
No  doom  can  shake  their  constancy : 
They  in  the  midmost  flame  confessed, 
"  God  of   our  Fathers  !     Thou  art  blessed !" 

The  Shepherds  keep  their  flocks  by  night; 
The  Heaven  glows  out  with  wondrous  hght ; 
The  glory  of   the  Lord  is  there. 
The  Angel-bands  their  King  declare  : 
The  watchers  of  the  night  confessed, 
"God  of   our  Fathers!     Thou  art  blessed!" 

The  Angel  ceased ;    and  suddenly 

Seraphic  legions  fllled  the  sky : 

Glory  to  God,  they  cry  again : 

Peace  upon  earth,  good  will  to  men : 

Christ  comes! — And  they  tliat  heard  confessed, 

"God  of  our  Fathers!     Thou  art  blessed!" 


OH,    WONDEOtJS    MYSTERY.  63 

What  said  tlie  Shepherds?     "Let  us  turn 
This  new-born  miracle  to  learn." 
To  Bethlehem's  gate  their  footsteps  drew  : 
The  Mother  with  the  Child  they  view  : 
They  knelt,  and  worshipped,  and  confessed, 
"God  of  our  Fathers!     Thou  art  blessed!" 

St.  Cosmas. 


OH,  avojN^drous  mystery. 

Oh,  wondrous  mystery,  full  of  passing  grace  ! 
The  oTot  becometh  Heaven  :     the  Viro-in's  breast 

o  O 

The  bright  Cherubic  Throne  :    the  stall  that  place 
AVhere  He,  Who  fills  all  space,  vouchsafes  to  rest : 
Christ  our  God,  to  Whom  we  raise 
Hymns  of  thankfulness  and  praise. 

The  course  propitious  of   the  unknown  Star 
The  Magi  followed  on  its  heavenly  way, 
Until  it  led  them,  beckoning  from  afar, 

To  where  the  Christ,  the  King  of   all  things,  lay  : 
Him  in  Bethlehem  they  find, 
Born  the  Saviour  of  mankind. 

"Where  is  the  Child,"   they  ask, — "the  new-born  King, 
AVhose  herald-light  is  glittering  in  the  sky, — 


64  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

To  Whom  our  offerings  and  our  praise  we  bring?' 
And  Herod's  heart  is  troubled  utterly. 
Armed  for  war  with  God,  in  vain 
Would  he  see  that  Infant  slain. 

St.  Cosmas. 


THAT  FEARFUL  DAY. 


T^v  rjiiipav   rijv   (ppt/.TTjV. 


That  fearful  day,  that  day  of  speechless  dread, 
When  Thou  shalt  come  to  judge  the  quick  and  dead- 

I  shudder  to  foresee, 

0  God !    what  then  shall  be ! 

When  Thou  shalt  come,  angelic  legions  round. 
With  thousand  thousands,  and  with  trumpet  sound ; 
Christ  grant  me  in  the  air 
With  saints  to  meet  Thee  there  ! 

Weep,  0  my  soul,  ere  that  great  hour  and  day, 
When  God  shall  shine  in  manifest  array. 

Thy  sin,  that  thou  mayst  be 

In  that  strict  judgment  free  ! 

The  terror  ! — hell-fire  fierce  and  unsufficed : 

The  bitter  worm :    the  gnashing  teeth  : — 0  Christ, 

Forgive,  remit,  protect ; 

And  set  me  with  the  elect ! 


THAT    FEAKFUL    DAY. 


65 


That  I  may  hear  the  blessed  voice  that  calls 
The  righteous  to  the  joy  of  heavenly  halls, 
And,  King  of   Heaven,  may  reach 
The  realm  that  passeth  speech  1 

Enter  Thou  not  in  judgment  with  each  deed, 
Nor  each  intent  and  thought  in  strictness  read : 

Forgive,  and  save  me  then, 

0  Thou  that  lovest  men  ! 

Thee,   One  in  Three  blest  Persons  !     Lord  o'er  all  1 
Essence  of   essence.  Power  of   power,  we  call  I 

Save  us,  0  Father,  Son, 

And  Spirit,   ever  one  I 

St.  Theodore  of  the  Stldum. 


17 


66  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


ADAM'S  COMPLAINT. 

"  The  Lord  my  Maker,  forming  me  of   clay, 

By  His  own  Breath  the  breath  of   life  conveyed  : 

O'er  all  the  bright  new  world  He  gave  me  sway,- 

A  little  lower  than  the  Angels  made. 

But  Satan,  using  for  his  guile 

The  crafty  serpent's  cruel  wile, 

Deceived  me  by  the  Tree  ; 

And  severed  me  from  God  and  grace. 

And  wrought  me  death,  and  all  my  race, 

As  long  as  time  shall  bo. 

0  Lover  of  the  sons  oi    men  ! 
Forgive,  and  call  me  back  again  ! 

"  In  that  same  hour  I  lost  the  glorious  stole 
Of  innocence,  that  God's  own  Hands  had  made ; 
And  now,  the  tempter  poisoning  all  my  soul, 

1  sit  in  fig-leaves  and  in  skins  arrayed  : 
I  sit  condemned,  distressed,  forsaken ; 
Must  till  the  ground  whence  I  was  taken 
By  labour's  daily  sweat. 

But  Tliou,  that  slialt  hereafter  come, 
The  offspring  of  a  Virgin -womb. 
Have  pity  on  me  yet ! 
O  turn  on  mo  those  gracious  eyes, 
And  call  me  back  to  Paradise  ! 


ADAM  S    COMPLAINT. 

•0  glorious  Paradise!     0  lovely  clime! 

0  God-built  mansions  !     Joy  of  every  Saint ! 

Happy  remembrance  to  all  coming  time  ! 

Whisper,  with  all  thy  leaves,  in  cadence  faint, 

One  prayer  to  Him  Who  made  them  all, 

One  prayer  for  Adam  in  his  fall! — 

That  He,   Who  formed  thy  gates  of  yore, 

Would  bid  those  gates  unfold  once  more 

That  I  had  closed  by  sin  : 

And  let  me  taste  that  holy  Tree 

That  giveth  immortality 

To  them  that  dwell  therein ! 

Or  have  I  fallen  so  far  from  grace 

That  mercy  hath  for  me  no  place?" 

Adam  sat  right  against  the  Eastern  gate, 

By  many  a  storm  of  sad  remembrance  tost: 

"Oh,  me!    so  ruined  by  the  serpent's  hate! 

Oh  me !    so  glorious  once,  and  now  so  lost ! 

So  mad  that  bitter  lot  to  choose  ! 

Beguiled  of  all  I  had  to  lose  ! 

Must  I,  then,  gladness  of  my  eyes,- — 

Must  I,  then,  leave  thee.  Paradise, 

And  as  an  exile  go? 

And  must  I  never  cease  to  grieve 

How  once  my  God,  at  cool  of  eve, 

Came  down  to  walk  below? 

0  Merciful !    on  Thee  I  call : 

0  Pitiful !    forgive  my  fall ! ' ' 

St.  Theophanes. 


68  SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 


TRANSFIGURATION. 

The  choirs  of  ransomed  Israel, 

Tlie  Red  Sea's  passage  o'er, 
Upraised  the  hymn  of  triumph 

Upon  the  farther  shore. 
And  shouted,  as  the  foeman 

Was  whelmed  beneath  the  sea, 
"Sing  we  to  Judah's  Saviom% 

For  glorified  is  He  !" 

Amongst  His  Twelve  Apostles 

Christ  spake  the  Words  of  Life, 
And  showed  a  realm  of  beauty 

Beyond  a  world  of   strife  : 
"When  all  my  Father's  glory 

Shall  shine  expressed  in  Me, 
Then  praise  Him,  then  exalt  Him, 

For  magnified  is  He  !" 

Upon  the  Mount  of   Tabor 
The  promise  was  made  good  ; 

When,  baring  all  the  Godhead, 
In  light  itself   He  stood  : 


TRAjS';SFIGUR.VTION.  69 

And  tbev,   in  awe  beholdinof, 

The  Apostolic  Three, 
Sang  out  to  God  their  Saviour, 

For  magnified  was  He  ! 

In  days  of  old,  on  Sinai, 

The  Lord  of  Sabaoth  came, 
In  majesty  of   terror, 

In  thunder-cloud  and  flame  : 
On  Tabor,  with  the  glorv 

Of   sunniest  light  for  vest, 
The  excellence  of  beauty 

In  Jesus  was  expressed. 

All  hours  and  days  inclined  there, 

And  did  Thee  worship  meet ; 
The  sun  himself   adored  Thee, 

And  bowed  him  at  Thy  feet : 
While  Moses  and  Elias 

Upon  the  Holy  ]\Iount 
The  coeternal  glorv 

Of   Christ  our  God  recount. 

Oh,   holy,   wondrous  Vision  ! 

But  what,  when,  this  life  past, 
The  beauty  of  Mount  Tabor 

Shall  end  in  Heaven  at  last? 
But  what,   when  all  the  glory 

Of   uncreated  lio-ht 
Shall  be  the  promised  guerdon 

Of   them  that  win  the  fight? 

St.  Cosmas. 

IS 


,0  SONGS    OF    PRAISK. 


0   FAITHFUL   CROSS! 

0  FAITHFUL  CROSS !    0  iioblest  tree  ! 
In  all  our  woods  there's  none  like  thee  : 
No  earthly  gro\'es,   no  shady  bowers, 
Produce  such  leaves,   such  fruit,   such  flowers. 
Sweet  are  the  nails,  and  sweet  the  wood. 
That  bears  a  weight  so  sweet,  so  good. 

Sing,  0  my  tongue,   devoutly  sing 
The  glorious  laurels  of   our  King  : 
Sing  the  triumphant  victory 
Gained  on  the  cross  erected  high ; 
"Where  man's  Redeemer  yields  his  breath, 
And,  dying,   conquers  hell  and  death. 

With  pity  our  Creator  saw 

His  noblest  work  transgress  his  law, 

AVhen  our  first  parents  rashly  ate 

The  fatal  tree's  forbidden  meat ; 

He  then  resolved  the  cross's  wood 

Should  make  that  tree's   sad  damage  good. 

By  this  wise  method  God  designed 
From  sin  and  death  to  save  mankind ; 


0    FAITHFUL    CROSS! 


Superior  art  with  love  coiubiiies, 
And  arts  of  Satan  countermines  : 
And  where  the  traitor  gave  the  wound, 
There  heahns:  remedies  are  found. 


o 


When  the  full  time  decreed  above 
Was  come  to  show  this  work  of  love, 
Th"   Eternal  Father  sends  liis  Son, 
Tlie  world's  Creator,   from  his  throne  1 
W^ho  on  our  earth,  this  vale  of   tears, 
Clothed  with  a  virgin's  flesh  appears. 

Thus  God,   made  man,   an  infant  lies. 
And  in  the  manger  weeping  cries  ; 
His  sacred  limbs,  by  Mary  bound, 
The  poorest  tattered  rags  surround  ; 
And  God's  incarnate  feet  and  liands 
iVre  closely  bound  with   swathing  bands. 

Full  thirty  years  were  fully  spent 
In  this  our  mortal  banishment ; 
And  then  the  Son  of  Man,  decreed 
For  the  lost  sons  of   men  to  bleed, 
And  on  the  cross  a  victim  laid. 
The  solemn  expiation  made. 

Gall  was  his  drink  ;    his  flesh  they  tear 
With  thorns  and  nails  ;    a  cruel  spear 
Pierces  his  side,   from  whence  a  flood 
Streams  forth,   of   water  mixed  with  blood 


72  SONGS  OF  praisp:. 

With  what  a  tide  are  washed  again 
The  sinful  earth,   the  stars,  the  main  ! 

Bend,  towering  tree,  thy  branches  bend, 
Thy  native  stubbornness  suspend : 
Let  not  stiff   nature  use  its  force  ; 
To  weaker  saps  have  now  recourse  : 
With  softest  arms  receive  tliy  load, 
And  gently  bear  our  dying  God. 

On  thee  alone  the  Lamb  w^as  slain 

That  reconciled  the  world  again  ; 

And  Avhen  on  raging  seas  w^as  tost 

The  shipwrecked  world  and  mankind  lost, 

Besprinkled  with  his  sacred  gore, 

Thou  safely  brought  them  to  the  shore. 

All  glory  to  the  sacred  Three, 

One  undivided  Deity  : 

To  Father,  Holy  Ghost,  and  Son, 

Be  equal  praise  and  homage  done  : 

Let  the  whole  universe  proclaim 

Of   One  and  Three  the  glorious  Name. 


BUEIAL    OF    THE    DEAD.  73 


BURIAL  OF  THE  DEAD. 

Day  of  Wrath !    Oh,  day  of  mourning ! 
See  fulfilled  the  prophets'  warning ! 
Heaven  and  earth  in  ashes  burning ! 
Oh,  what  fear  man's  bosom  rendeth, 
When  from  heaven  the  Judge  descendeth, 
On  Whose  sentence  all  dependeth ! 

Wondrous  sound  the  trumpet  flingeth, 
Through  earth's  sepulchres  it  ringeth, 
All  before  the  Throne  it  bringeth  ; 
Death  is  struck,  and  nature  quaking, 
All  creation  is  awaking, 
To  its  Judge  an  answer  making. 

Lo,  the  Book,  exactly  worded, 
Wherein  all  hath  been  recorded ! 
Thence  shall  judgment  be  awarded. 
When  the  Judge  His  seat  attaineth, 
And  each  hidden  deed  arraigneth, 
Nothing  unavenged  remaineth. 


74  SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 

What  shall  I,  frail  man,  be  pleading, 
Who  for  me  be  interceding, 
When  the  just  are  mercy  needing? 
King  of  Majesty  tremendous, 
Who  dost  free  salvation  send  us, 
Fount  of  pity,  then  befriend  us! 


Think,  good  Jesu,  my  salvation 
Caused  Thy  wondrous  Incarnation; 
Leave  me  not  to  reprobation. 


BUEIAL    OF    THE    DEAD.  75 

Faint  and  weary  Thou  hast  sought  me, 
On  the  Cross  of   suffering  bought  me  : 
Shall  such  grace  be  vainly  brought  me? 

Eighteous  Judge  !    for  sin's  pollution 
Grant  Thy  gift  of  absolution 
Ere  that  day  of  retribution. 
Guilty,   now  I  pour  my  moaning, 
All  my  shame  with  anguish  owning ; 
Spare,  0  God,  Thy  suppliant  groaning. 

Thou  the  sinful  woman  savedst; 
Thou  the  dying  thief  forgavest ; 
And  to  me  a  hope  vouchsafest. 
Worthless  are  my  prayers  and  sighing  : 
Yet,  good  Lord,  in  grace  complying, 
Rescue  me  h-om  fires  undyino-. 


With  thy  favored  sheep,  oh,  place  me, 
]^or  among  the  goats  abase  me ; 
But  to  Thy  right  hand  upraise  me. 
While  the  wicked  are  confounded, 
Doomed  to  flames  of  woe  unbounded, 
Call  me,  with  Thy  saints  surrounded. 

Low  I  kneel,  with  heart-submission  ; 
See  like  ashes  my  contrition  ; 
Help  me  in  my  lost  condition. 


76 


SONGS   OF   PRAISE. 


Ah  !  that  clay  of  tears  and  mourning ! 
From  the  dust  of  earth  returning, 
Man  for  judgment  must  prepare  him; 
Spare,  0  God,  in  mercy,  spare  him! 
Lord  all-pitying,  Jesu  blest, 
Grant  him  Thine  eternal  rest. 


DREAD  FRAMER  OF  THE  EARTH.  77 


DREAD  FRAMER  OF  THE  EARTH. 

Sterne  rerum  conditor. 

Dread  Framer  of  the  earth  and  sky, 
Who  dost  the  Hght  and  darkness  give, 

And  all  the  cheerful  change  supply 
Of  alternating  morn  and  eve  ! 

Light  of .  the  .  midnight  traveller  ! 

Who  dost  divide  the  day  from  night ! — 
Loud  crows  the  dawn's  shrill  harbinger, 

And  wakens  up  the  sunbeams  bright. 

Forthwith  at  this  the  darkness  chill 
Retreats  before  the  star  of  morn ; 

And  from  their  busy  schemes  of  ill 
The  vagrant  crews  of   night  return. 

Fresh  hope  at  this  the  sailor  cheers  ; 

The  waves  their  stormy  strife  allay ; 
The  Church's  Rock  at  this,  in  tears. 

Hastens  to  wash  his  guilt  away. 

Arise  ye,  then,  with  one   accord ! 
Nor  longer  wrapt  in  slumber  lie; 

20 


78 


SONGS    OF   PRAISE. 

The  cock  rebukes  all  who  their  Lord 
By  sloth  neglect,  by  sin  deny. 


At  his  clear  cry  joy  springs  afresh  ; 

Health  courses  through  the  sick  man's  veins 
The  dagger  glides  into  its  sheath ; 

The  fallen  soul  her  faith  regains. 


SUlsDAY.  79 

Jesu,  look  on  us  when  we  fall : — 

One  momentary  glance  of  Thine 
Can  from  her  guilt  the  soul  recall 

To  tears  -of  penitence  divine. 

Awake  us  from  false  sleep  profound, 

And  through  our  senses  pour  Thy  light ; 

Be  Thy  blest  Name  the  first  we  sound 
At  early  dawn,  the  last  at  night. 

To  God  the  Father  glory  be, 

And  to  His  sole-begotten  Son  ; 
The  same,  0  Holy  Ghost,  to  Thee, 


While  everlastins;  ag;es  run. 

CD         D 


Caswall. 


SUNDAY. 

Primo  die  quo   Trinitas. 

This  day  the  blessed  Trinity 

The  universe  began ; 
This  day  the  world's  Creator  rose, 

O'ercomino;  death  for  man. 

o 

Casting  betimes  dull  sloth  awa}'', 
AVe  too  will  rise  by  night, 

And,  with  the  Prophet,   seek  the  Lord 
Before  the  dawning  light. 


80 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


So  may  He  stretch  His  hand  to  save, 

And  hear  us  in  His  love, 
And,  cleansed  from  guilt,  our  souls  restore 

To  their  blest  home  above. 


So,  wliile  on  this  His  holy  Day, 
At  this  most  sacred  hour, 


SUNDAY.  81 

Our  psalms  amid  the  stillness  rise, 
May  He  His  blessings  shower. 

Father  of   lights  !    keep  us  this  day 

From  sinful  passions  free  ; 
Grant  us,   in  every  word,  and  deed, 

And  thought,  to  honor  Thee. 

Thou  Lord  of   chastity  divine  ! 
.  Grant  us  the  grace  to  quell 
Those  flames  impure  which,  cherished  here. 
Increase  the  flames  of  hell. 

Saviour,  of  Thy  sweet  clemency 

Wash  Tliou  our  sins  away ; 
Grant  us  Thy  peace, — grant  U8  with  Thee 

The  joys  of  endless  day. 

Father  of   mercies,  hear  our  cry ; 

Hear  us,  coequal  Son, 
Who  reignest  with  the  Holy  Ghost, 

While  ceaseless  ages  run. 

Caswall. 


21 


S2  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  PASSION. 

Moerentes  oculi  spargite  lachryrtias. 

Now  let  us  sit  and  weep, 
And  fill  our  hearts  with  woe  ; 
Pondering  the  shame  and  torments  deep 
Which  God  from  wicked  men  did  undergo. 

See  how  the  multitude, 
With  swords  and  staves,  draw  nigh ; 
See  how  they  smite,  with  buffets  rude, 
That  Head  divine  of  awful  majesty  : 

How,  bound  with  cruel  cord, 
Christ  to  the  scourge  is  given ; 
And  ruffians  lift  their  hands,  unawed. 
Against  the  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  Heaven  ! 

Hear  it,  ye  people,  hear ! 
Our  good  and  gracious  God, 
Silent  beneath  the  lash  severe, 
Stands  with  His  sacred  shoulders  drenched  in  blood. 


0    BLEST    CKEATOR.  83 

Oh,  scene  for  tears  !    but  now 
The  sinful  race  contrive 
A  torment  new  :    deep  in  His  brow, 
With  all  their  force,  the  jagged  thorns  they  drive. 

Then,  roughly  dragged  to  death, 
Christ  on  the  Cross  is  slain, 
And,  as  He  dies,  with  parting  breath, 
Into  His  Father's  hands  gives  back  His  soul,  again. 

To  Him  who  so  much  bore 
To  gain  for  sinners  grace. 
Be  praise  and  glory  evermore 
From  the  whole  universal  human  race. 

Caswall. 


0  BLEST  CREATOR. 

Rei'um  Creator  optime, 

0  BLEST  Creator  of  the  world, 
Look  in  Thy  pity  down ; 

Nor  let  the  guilty  sleep  of  sin 
Our  souls  in  torpor  drown. 

Lord  of  all  holiness,  may  we 
Find  mercy  in  Thy  sight ! 

Who,  to  set  forth  Thy  glory,  rise 
Before  the  mprning  light. 


84 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


^Vho,  as  the  holy  Psalmist  bids, 
Our  hands  thus  early  raise  ; 

And  in  the  midnight  sing  with  Paul 
And  Silas  hymns  of   praise. 


Jesu,  to  Thee  our  deeds  we  show, 
To  Thee  our  hearts  lie  bare ; 


:s'OW    WITH    THE    EISIXG    GOLDEX    DAWX.  85 

Oh,  hearken  to  the  sighs  we  pour, 
And  in  Thy  mercy  spare  ! 

Father  of   mercies,  hear  our  cr}' ; 

Hear  us,   coequal  Son, 
Who  reignest  with  the  Holy  Ghost 

While  ceaseless  ages  run. 

Caswall. 


XOW   WITH  THE  RISIXG  G^OLDEN' PAWN. 

•  Lux  ecce^  sure/it  aurea. 

Kow  with  the  rising  golden  dawn, 
^  Let  us,,  the  children  of  the  day, 
Cast  off  the  darkness  -  which  so  long 
Has  led  our  guilty  souls  astray. 

Oh,  may  the  morn,   so  pure,;  sO. clear, 
Its  own  sweet  calm  in  us  instil  !—^" 

A  guileless  naind,  a  heart  sincere; 
Simplicity  of   word .  and  will : 

And  ever,  as  the  day  glides  by. 
May  we  the  busy  senses  rein  ; 

Keep  guard  upon  the  hand  and  eye. 
Nor  let  the  body  suffer  stain ! 


86  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

For,  all  day  long,  on  Heaven's  high  tower 
There  stands  a  Sentinel,  who  spies 

Our  every  action,  hour  by  hour, 
From  early  dawn  till  daylight  dies. 

To  God  the  Father  glory  be, 
And  to  His  sole-begotten  Son ; 

The  same,  0  Holy  Ghost,  to  Thee, 
While  everlasting  ages  run. 

Caswall. 


HIS  SACRED   FEET. 

Maria  castis  osculis. 


His  sacred  feet  with  tears  of   agony 
She  bathes ;    and  prostrate  on  the  earth  adores ; 
Steeps  them  in  kisses  chaste,  and  wipes  them  dry 
With  her  own  hair;  then  forth  her  precious  ointment  pours. 

Praise  in  the  highest  to  the  Father  be  ; 
Praise  to  the  mighty  coeternal  Son ; 
And  praise,   0  Spirit  Paraclete,  to  Thee, 
While  ages  upon  everlasting  ages  run. 

Caswall. 


HYMN    FOE   COisFlEMATIOX. 


HYMN  FOR  CONFIRMATION". 

My  God,  accept  my  heart  this  day, 
And  make  it  always  Thine, — 

That  I  from  Thee  no  more  may  strav, 
No  more  from  Thee  dechne. 

Before  the  cross  of  Him  who  died, 

Behold,   I  prostrate  fall : 
Let  every  sin  be  crucified, — 

Let  Christ  be  all  in  all ! 

Anoint  me  with  Thy  heavenly  grace, 
Adopt  me  for  Thine  own, — 

That  I  may  see  Thy  glorious  face 
And  worship  at  Th}'-  throne  ! 

May  the  dear  blood,   once  shed  for  me. 

My  blest  atonement  prove, — 
That  I  from  first  to  last  may  be 

The  purchase  of   Thy  love  1 

Let  every  tliought,   and  work,   and  word, 

To  Thee  be  ever  given  : 
Then  life  shall  be  Thy  service.   Lord. 

And  death  the   gate  of   heaven  ! 

Brydges. 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


SUNDAY   MOKNING. 


Ad  templa  nos  rursus  vocat. 


Again  the  Sunday  morn 
Calls  us  to  prayer  and  praise, 
Waking  our  hearts  to  gratitude 
With  its  enlivening  rays. 


SUIs^DAY    MORNING.  89 

But  Christ  yet  brighter  shone, 
Quenching  the  morning  beam, 
When  triumphing  from  death  He  rose, 
And  raised  us  up  with  Him. 

When  first  the  world  sprang  forth, 
In  majesty  arrayed, 
And  bathed  in  streams  of  purest  Hght, 
What  power  was  there  displayed ! 

But,  oh,  what  love  !    when  Christ, 
For  our  transgressions  slain, 
Was  by  th'  Eternal  Father  raised 
For  us  to  life  again! 

His  new-created  world 
The  mighty  Maker  viewed, 
With  thousand  lovely  tints  adorned. 
And  straight  pronounced  it  good. 

But,  oh,  much  more  He  joyed 
That  selfsame  world  to  see 
Washed  in  the  Lamb's  all-savino;  Blood 
From  its  impurity. 

IS'ature  each  day  renews 
Her  beauty  evermore ; 
Whence  to  God's  hidden  Majesty 
The  soul  is  taught  to  soar. 

23 


90  SONGS    OF   PEAISE. 

But  Christ,  the  Light  of  all, 
The  Father's  Image  blest, 
Gives  us  to  see  our  God  Himself 
In  Flesh  made  manifest. 

Blest  Trinity,  vouchsafe 
That,  to  thy  guidance  true. 
What  Thou  forbiddest  we  may  shun ; 
What  Thou  commandest,  do. 

Caswall. 


THE  ASCENSION. 


AVhy  is  thy  face  so  lit  with  smiles. 

Mother  of  Jesus,  why? 
And  wherefore  is  thy  beaming  look 

So  fixed  upon  the  sky? 

From  out  thine  overflowing  eyes 
Bright  lights  of  gladness  part. 

As  though  some  gushing  fount  of  joy 
Had  broken  in  thy  heart. 

Mother,  how  canst  thou  smile  to-day? 

How  can  thine  eyes  be  bright, 
When  He,  thy  Life,  thy  Love,  thine  All, 

Hath  vanished  from  thy  sight? 


THE   ASCENSION.  91 

His  rising  form  on  Olivet 

A  summer's  shadow  cast  ; 
The  branches  of  the  hoary  trees 

Drooped  as  the  shadow  passed. 

And  as  He  rose,  with  all  his  train 

Of  righteous  souls  around, 
His  blessing  fell  into  thine  heart. 

Like  dew  into  the  ground. 

Down  stooped  a  silver  cloud  from  heaven, 

The  Eternal  Sj)irit's  car, 
And  on  the  lessening  vision  went, 

Like  some  receding  star. 

The  silver  cloud  hath  sailed  away, 

The  skies  are  blue  and  free ; 
The  road  that  vision  took  is  now 

Sunshine  and  vacancy. 

The  Feet  which  Thou  hast  kissed  so  oft. 

Those  living  Feet,  are  gone  ; 
Mother,  thou  canst  but  stoop  and  kiss 

Their  print  upon  the  stone. 

He  loved  the  Flesh  thou  gavest  Him, 

Because  it  was  from  thee  ; 
He  loved  it,  for  it  gave  Him  power 

To  bleed  and  die  for  me. 


92  SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 

That  flesh  with  its  five  witness  Wounds 
Unto  His  throne  He  bore, 

For  God  to  love,  and  spirits  blest 
To  worship  evermore. 

Yes!   He  hath  left  thee,  Mother  dear; 

His  throne  is  far  above ; 
How  canst  thou  be  so  full  of  joy 

When  thou  hast  lost  thy  Love? 

Oh,  surely  earth's  poor "  sunshine  now 
To  thee  mere  gloom  appears, 

When  He  is  gone  who  was  its  Light 
For  Three-and-Thirty  Years.      . 

Why  do  not  thy  sweet  hands  detain 
His  Feet  upon  their  way? 

Oh,  why  doth  not  the  Mother  speak 
And  bid  her  Son  to  stay? 

Ah,  no !    thy  love  is  rightful  love, 
From  all  self-seeking  free  ; 

The  change  that  is  such  gain  to  Him 
Can  be  no  loss  to  thee. 

'Tis  sweet  to  feel  our  Saviour's  love, 
To  feel  His  presence  near 

Yet  loyal  love  His  glory  holds 
A  thousand  times  more  dear. 


MARY    MAGDALEN.  93 

Who  would  have  known  the  way  to  love 

Our  Jesus  as  we  ought, 
If  thou  in  varied  joy  and  woe 

Hadst  not  that  lesson  taught? 

Ah  !    never  is  our  love  so  pure 

As  when  refined  by  pain, 
Or  when  God's  glory  upon  earth 

Finds  in  our  loss  its  gain  ! 

Faber. 


MARY  MAGDALEN. 


To  the  hall  of  that  feast  came  the  sinful  and  fair ; 
She  heard  in  the  city  that  Jesus  was  there  ; 
She  marked  not  the  splendor  that  blazed  on  their  board; 
But  silently  knelt  at  the  feet  of  her  Lord. 

The  hair  from  her  forehead,   so  sad  and  so  meek, 
Huns;  dark  o'er  the  blushes  that  burned  on  her  cheek : 
And  so  still  and  so  lowly  she  bent  in  her  shame, 
It  seemed  as  her  spirit  had  flown  from  its  frame. 

The  frown  and  the  murmur  went  round  through  them  all. 
That  one  so  unhallowed  should  tread  in  that  hall ; 
And  some  said  the  poor  would  be  objects  more  meet 
For  the  wealth  of  the  perfumes  she  showered  at  his  feet. 

24 


94  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

She  marked  but  her  Saviour,   she  spoke  but  in  sighs, 
She  dared  not  look  up  to  the  heaven  of   his  eyes ; 
And  the  hot  tears  gushed  forth  at  each  heave  of  her  breast, 
As  her  hps  to  his  sandals  she  throbbingly  pressed. 

On  the  cloud  after  tempests  as  shineth  the  bow, 
In  the  glance  of  the  sunbeam,  as  melteth  the  snow, 
He  looked  on  that  lost  one, — her  sins  were  forgiven, 
And  Mary  went  forth  in  the  beauty  of  heaven. 

Callanan. 


JERUSALEM  THE  GOLDEN. 

Jerusalem  the  golden. 

With  milk  and  honey  blest : 
Beneath  thy  contemplation 
•  Sink  heart  and  voice  oppressed. 

I  know  not,  oh,  I  know  not 
What  joys  await  us  there ; 

What  radiancy  of  glory. 
What  bliss  beyond  compare. 

They  stand,  those  halls  of  Sion, 

All  jubilant  with  song, 
And  bright  with  many  an  angel, 

And  all  the  martyr  throng : 


JERUSALEM    THE    GOLDE^^  95 

.-The  Prince  is  ever  in  them, 

The  daylight  is  serene ; 
The  pastures  of  the  blessed 

Are  decked  in  glorious  sheen. 

There  is  the  throne  of  David ; 

And  there,  from  care*  released, 
The  shout  of  them  that  triumph, 

The  song  of  them  that  feast ; 

And  they,  who  with  their  Leader 

Have  conquered  in  the  fight, 
Forever  and  forever 

Are  clad  in  robes  of  white. 

Oh,  sweet  and  blessed  country, 

The  Home  of  God's  elect ! 
Oh,  sweet  and  blessed  country, 

That  eager  hearts  expect ! 

Jesu,  in  mercy  bring  us 

To  that  dear  land  of  rest. 
Who  art,  with  God  the  Father, 

And  Spirit,  ever  blest. 


96 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


m 


PRAYER  OF  THE  CONTRITE  SINNER. 


Have  mercy  Thou,  most  gracious  God, 
And  my  remittance  sign ; 


PRAYER    OF    THE    CONTRITE    SINNER.  97 

The  more  Th}'^  mercy  shall  accord, 
The  greater  glory  Thine. 

Thou  surely  hast  not  said  in  vain : 

"More  joy  in  heaven  is  made 
For  the  lost  sheep  that's  found  again, 

Than  those  which  never  strayed." 

Helped  by  Thy  grace,  no  more  I'll  stray, 

No  more  resist  Thy  voice ; 
Where  Thou,  good  Shepherd,  lead'st  the  way. 

That  way  shall  be  my  choice. 

Too  long,  akxs  !    my  wandering  feet 

The  crooked  paths  have  trod  ; 
Henceforth  I'll  follow,  as  is  meet, 

The  sure  unerrino-  road. 

If  casual  falls  retard  my  pace. 

With  speed  again  I'll  rise, 
With  speed  I'll  reassimie  my  race, 
-     And  run  and  gain  the  prize. 

All  praise,  0  Lord,  to  Thee  alone. 

Below,  as  'tis  above  : 
And  may  Thy  joys.  Eternal  One, 

Both  draw  and  crown  my  love  ! 


26 


98  SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 


ROCK  OF  AGES. 

Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 

Let  me  hide  myself   in  Thee  ; 

Let  the  water  and  the  blood, 

From  Thy  wounded  side  which  flowed. 

Be  of  sin  the  double  cure  ; 

Save  from  wrath  and  make  me  pure. 

In  my  hand  no  price  I  bring, 
Simply  to  Thy  Cross  I  cling ; 
Naked,   come  to  Thee  for  dress, 
Helpless,   look  to  Thee  for  grace, 
Foul,  I  to  the  Fountain  fly; 
Wash  me,  Saviour,  or  I  die. 

While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
When  my  eyes  shall   close  in  death, 
When  I  rise  to  worlds  unknown, 
And  behold  Thee  on  Thy  throne, 
Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself   in  Thee. 

TOPLADY. 


KOCK    OF    AGES.  99 

As  many  of  our  readers  may  not  be  familiar  Math  Mr.  Glad- 
stone's Latin  version  of  the  hymn,  "  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me," 
we  subjoin  it.  It  is  given  in  a  paper  entitled  "  Mr.  Gladstone  as 
a  Hymnologist  :" — 

Jesus,  pro  me  peribratus, 
Condar  intra  Tuum  latus. 
Tu  p6r  lympham  profluentem, 
Tu  per  sangninem  tepentem, 
Impeccati  mi  redunda, 
Tolle  culpam,  sordes  munda. 

Coram  Te,  nee  Justus  ibrem 
Quamvis  tota  vi  laborem, 
Nee  si  fide  nunquam  cesso, 
Fletu  stillans  indefesso  : 
Tibi  soli  tantum  munus  : 
Salva  me,  Salvator  unus  ! 

Nil  in  manu  meeum  fero, 

Sed  me  versus  Crueem  gero ; 

Vestimenta  nudus  oro, 

Opem  debilis  imploro ; 

Fontem  Christi  qusero  immundus, 

Nisi  laves,  moribundus. 

Dum  lios  artus  vita  regit ; 
Quando  nox  sepulehro  tegit ; 
Mortuos  cum  stare  jubes, 
Sedens  Judex  inter  nubes ; 
Jesus,  pro  me  perforatus, 
Condar  intra  Tuum  latus. 


100 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


ST.  FRANCIS  XAVIER. 

Lo!    on  the  slope  of   yonder  shore 
Beneath  that  lonely  shed, 

A  saint  hath  found  his  conflicts  o'er, 
And  laid  his  dying  head ! 


No  gloom  of   fear  hath  glazed  his  eye, 
For,  though  loud  l)illo\v.s  roll, 

The  Aurora  of   Eternity 
Is  risino;  on  liis  soul. 


ST.  FRANCIS    XAVIER.  101 

The  glorious  Saviour  of  his  love 

Receives  him  in  His  arms, 
And  bears  him,  like  a  ransomed  dove, 

Away  from  all  alarms  I 

Champion  of   Jesus,  man  of   God, 

Servant  of  Christ,  well  done  ! 
Thy  path  of   thorns  hath  now  been  trod, 

Thy  red-cross  crown  is  won  ! 

O'er  the  wide  waste  of  watery  waves, 

:  And  leagues  on  leagues  of  land, 
Amidst  a  wilderness  of  graves. 
With  death  on  every  hand, 

He  flew  to  woo  and  win  a  world; 

That  men  might  kiss  the  feet 
Of   Him  whose  banner  he  unfurled, — 

Father, — Son, — Paraclete. 

His  tongue,  the  Spirit's  two-edged  sword, 

Had  magic  in  its  blade  ; 
For,  while  it  smote  with  every  word. 

It  healed  the  wounds  it  made  ! 

His  lips  were  love,  his  touch  was  power, 

His  thoughts  were  vivid  flame, — 
The  flashes  of  a  thunder-shower — 

Where'er,  or  when  they  came ! 

26 


102  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Around  liim  shone  the  hght  of  Hfe, 
Before  him  darkness  fell : — 

Satan  receded  from  the  strife, 
And  sought  his  native  hell ! 

Yet  who  so  humbly  walked  as  he, 
A  conqueror  in  the  field, 

Wreathing  the  rose  of  victory 
Around  his  radiant  shield? 

As  silvery  clouds,  at  eventide, 
Float  on  the  balmy  gale, 

Nor  seem  to  heed  the  stars  they  hide 
Behind  their  fleecy  veil, 

Bo  lowly  sense  of  slightest  worth 
Fresh  graces  o'er  him  threw ; 

For  he  unconscious  lived  on  earth 
Of   all  the  praise  he  drew  I 

Champion  of  Jesus,  on  that  breast 
From  whence  thy  fervor  flowed, 

Thou  hast  obtained  eternal  r^st, 
The  bosom  of  thy  God  ! 

Brydges. 


IN.  MEMORIAM.  103 


I]S^   MEMORIAM. 


I  SAW  two  flowers  at  mornino- 

o 

The  one  was  a  full-blown  rose  : 
And  it  lay  at  rest  on  a  matron's  breast, 

Like  a  gleam  from  the  sunset  close. 
The  other  an  opening  rose-bud, 

As  white  as.  the  sea-washed  pearl ; 
And  it  graced,  amid  masses  of  dark-brown  hair, 

The  head  of  a  beautiful  girl. 
And  the  flowers  were  types  of  these  lovely  ones, 

That  mother  and  daughter  fair, 
Sending  abroad,  o'er  life's  arid  road, 

Sweet  perfume  everywhere. 

I  saw  two  graves  at  even, 

Mid  the  fading  light  of   day  ; 
And  there,  at  the  head  of   the  cherished  dead. 

The  morning  flowerets  lay. 
And  I  cried,    "  0  gentle  flowers, 

Are  those  beautiful  ones  beneath? 
Can  aught  so  bright  and  so  lovely 

Feel  the  withering  grasp  of  Death?" 
"Not  so,  not  so,"   said  the  flowers; 

" 'Tis  but  dust  beneath  this  sod; 
For  the  holy  souls  on  the  sunset  ray 

Went  up  to  the  bosom  of  God  !" 

H.  COPPEE. 


104 


SOIS'GS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE   SINGERS. 

God  sent  His  Singers  upon  earth 
With  songs  of  sadness  and  of  mirth, 
That  they  might  touch  the  hearts  of   men 
And  bring  them  back  to  heaven  again. 


The  first,  a  youth,  with  soul  of  fire, 
Held  in  his  hand  a  golden  lyre  ; 


THE    SINGERS.  105 

Through  groves  he  wandered,  and  by  streams, 
Playing  the  music  of  our  dreams. 

The  second,  with  a  bearded  face, 
Stood  singing  in  the  market-place. 
And  stirred  with  accents  deep  and  loud 
The  hearts  of  all  the  listening  crowd. 

A  gray  old  man,  the  third  and.  last, 
Sans;  in  cathedrals  dim  and  vast, 
While  the  majestic  organ  rolled 
Contrition  from  its  mouths  of  gold. 

And  those  who  heard  the  Singers  three 
Disputed  which  the  best  might  be  ; 
For  still  their  music  seemed  to  start 
Discordant  echoes  in  each  heart. 

But  the  great  Master  said,   "I  see 
Xo  best  in  kind,  but  in  degree  : 
I  gave  a  various  gift  to  each, — 
To  charm,  to  strengthen,  and  to  teach. 

' '  These  are  the  three  great  chords  of  might ; 
And  he  whose  ear  is  tuned  aright 
Will  hear  no  discord  in  the  three, 
But  the  most  perfect  harmony." 

Longfellow. 


27 


106 


SOKGS    OF    PRAISE. 


\"     \% 


THE  SLEEP. 


"He  givetli  His  beloved  sleep." — Ps.  cxxvii.  2. 


Of  all  the  thoiio-lits  of   God  that  are 
Borne  inward  unto  souls  afar 
Along  the  Psalmist's  music  deep, 
Now  tell  mo  if   that   any  is, 
For  gift  or  grace,  surpassing  this: — 
"  E[e  giveth  His  beloved  sleep!" 


THE    SLEEP.  107 

What  would  we  give  to  our  beloved'.' 
The  hero's  heart,  to  be  unmoved, 
The  poet's  star-tuned  harp,  to  sweep, 
The  patriot's  voice,  to  teach  and  rouse, 
The  monarch's  crown,  to  light  the  brows  ? — 
"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

"What  do  we  give  to  our  beloved  ? 

A  little  faith  all  undisproved, 

A  little  dust  to  overweep, 

And  bitter  memories  to  make 

The  whole  earth  blasted  for  our  sake. 

"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

"Sleep  soft,  beloved!"    we  sometimes  say, 

But  have  no  tune  to  charm  away 

Sad  dreams  that  through  the  eyelids  creep, 

But  never  doleful  dream  again 

Shall  break  the  happy  slumber,  when 

"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep.  ' 

0  earth,  so  full  of   dreary  noises ! 
0  men,  with  wailing  in  your  voices  i 
0  delve'd  gold,  the  wallers  heap  I 
0  strife,  0  curse,  that  o'er  it  fall ! 
God  strikes  a  silence  through  you  all, 
And  "giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

His  dews  drop  mutely  on  the  hill ; 
His  cloud  above  it  saileth  still. 


108  SOITGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Though  on  its  slope  men  sow  and  reap. 
More  softly  than  the  dew  is  shed, 
Or  cloud  is  floated  overhead, 
"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

Ay,  men  may  wonder  while  they  scan 
A  living,  thinking,  feeling  man 
Confirmed  in  such  a  rest  to  keep ; 
But  angels  say, — and  through  the  word 
I  think  their  happy  smile  is   heard, — 
"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

For  me,  my  heart,  that  erst  did  go 
Most  like  a  tired  child  at  a  show. 
That  sees  through  tears  the  mummers  leap, 
Would  now  its  wearied  vision  close. 
Would  childlike  on  His  love  repose 
Who  "giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

And,  friends,   dear  friends,  when  it  shall  be 
That  this  low  breath  is  gone  from  mo. 
And  round  my  bier  ye  come  to  weep. 
Let  One,  most  loving  of  you  all. 
Say,   "  Not  a  tear  must  o'er  her  fall : 
'He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep.'" 

Mks.  Beowning. 


THE    SOUL-DIRGE.  109 


THE  SOUL-DIRGE. 

Tee  organ  played  sweet  music 

Whileas,  on  Easter-day, 
All  heartless  from  the  altar 

The  heedless  went  away ; 
And,  down  the  broad  aisle  crowding, 

They  seemed  a  funeral  train, 
That  were  burying  their  spirits 

To  the  music  of  that  strain. 

As  I  listened  to  the  organ, 

And  saw  them  crowd  along, 
I  thought  I  heard  two  voices 

Speaking  strangely,  but  not  strong : 
And  one,  it  whispered  sadly, 

Will  ye  also  go  away? 
But  the  other  spoke  exulting, 

Ha  !    the  soul-dirge, — hear  it  play  ! 

Hear  the  soul-dirge  !    hear  the  soul-dirge 

And  see  the  feast  divine  ! 
Ha !    the  jewels  of  salvation. 

And  the  trampling  feet  of  swine  1 

28 


110  SO:S"GS   OF   PEAISE. 

Hear  tlio  soul-dirge  !    hear  the  soul-dirge ! 

Little  think  they,  as  they  go, 
What  priceless  pearls  they  tread  on, 

Who  spurn  their  Saviour  so ! 

Hear  the  soul-dirge !    hear  the  soul-dirge ! 

It  was  dread  to  hear  it  play, 
While  the  Famishing  went  crowding 

From  the  Bread  of  Life  away : 
They  were  bidden,  they  were  bidden 

To  their  Father's  festal  board ; 
But  they  all,  with  gleeful  faces, 

Turned  their  back  upon  the  Lord. 

You  had  thought  the  church  a  prison, 

Had  you  seen  how  they  did  pom- 
Wit  h  giddy,  giddy  faces, 

From  the  consecrated  door. 
There  was  angels'  food  all  ready, 

But  the  bidden — where  were  they? 
O'er  the  highways  and  the  hedges, 

Ere  the  soul-dirge  ceased  to  play  I 

Oh,  the  soul-dirge,  how  it  echoed 

The  emptied  aisles  along. 
As  the  open  street  grew  crowded 

AVith  the  full  outpouring  throng  ! 
And  then — again  the  voices; 

Ha !    the  soul-dirge  !    hear  it  play  ! 
And  the  pensive,  pensive  whisper, 

Will  ye  also  go  away? 


THE    SOUL-DIEGE.  Ill 

Few,  few  were  they  that  Hngered 

To  sup  with  Jesus  there  ; 
And  yet,  for  all  that  spurned  Him 

There  was  plenty,  and  to  spare ! 
And  now,  the  food  of  angels 

Uncovered  to  my  sight. 
All-glorious  was  the  altar, 

And  the  chalice  glittered  bright. 

Then  came  the  hymn  Trisagion, 

And  rapt  me  up  on  high, 
With  angels  and  archangels 

To  laud  and  magnify. 
I  seemed  to  feast  in  Heaven  ; 

And  downward  wafted  then. 
With  angels  chaunting  round  me, 

Good  will  and  peace  to  men. 

I  may  not  tell  the  rapture 

Of  a  banquet  so  divine ; 
Ho !  every  one  that  thirsteth, 

Let  him  taste  the  bread  and  wine  ! 
Hear  the  Bride  and  Spirit  saying, 

Will  ye  also  go  away? 
Or — go,  poor  soul,  forever ! 

Oh,  the  soul-dirge — ^hcar  it  play  ! 

A.  Cleveland  Coxe. 


112 


SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 


JAIRUS'   DAUGHTER. 


Freshly  the  cool  breath  of  the  coming  eve 
Stole  through  the  lattice,  and  the  dying  girl 


JAIRUS'    DAUGHTER.  113 

Felt  it  upon  lier  forelioacl.     She  had  lain 

Since  the  hot  noontide  in  a  breathless  trance, 

Her  thin,  pale  fingers  clasped  within  the  hand 

Of  the  heart-broken  Ruler,  and  her  breast, 

Like  the  dead  marble,  white  and  motionless. 

The  shadow  of  a  leaf  lay  on  her  lips, 

And,  as  it  stirred  with  the  awakening  wind, 

The  dark  lids  lifted  from  her  languid  eyes, 

And  her  slight  fingers  moved,  and  heavily 

She  turned  upon  her  pillow.     He  was  there, — 

The  same  loved,  tireless  watcher,  and  she  looked 

Into  his  face  until  her  sight  grew  dim 

With  the  fast-falling  tears,  and,  with  a  sigh 

Of  tremulous  weaktiess,  murmuring  his  name, 

She  gently  drew  his  hands  upon  her  lips, 

And  kissed  it  as  she  wept.     The  old  man  sunk 

Upon  his  knees,  and  in  the  drapery 

Of   the  rich  curtains  buried  up  his  face  ; 

And  when  the  twilight  fell,  the  silken  folds 

Stirred  with  his  prayer;  but  the  slight  hand  he  held 

Had  ceased  its  pressure,  and  he  could  not  hear. 

In  the  dead,  utter  silence,   that  a  breath 

Came  through  her  nostrils,  and  her  temples  gave 

To  his  nice  touch  no  pulse,  and  at  her  mouth 

He  held  the  lightest  curl  that  on  her  neck 

Lay  with  a  mocking  beauty,  and  his  gaze 

Ached  with  its  deathly  stillness. 

It  was  night, 
And  softly  o'er  the  Sea  of   Gahlee 
Danced  the  breeze-ridden  ripples  to  the  shore, 

29 


114  SONGS    OF    FRAISE. 

Tipped  with  the  silver  sparkles  of   the  moon. 
The  breaking  waves  played  low  upon  the  beach 
Their  constant  music,  but  the  air  beside 
Was  still  as  starlight,  and  the  Saviour's  voice, 
In  its  rich  cadences  unearthly  sweet, 
Seemed  like  some   just-born  harmony  in  the  air. 
Waked  by  the  power  of  wisdom.     On  a  rock, 
With  the  broad  moonlight  falling  on  His  brow, 
He  stood  and  taught  the  people.     At  His  feet 
Lay  His  small  scrip,  and  pilgrim's  scallop  shell, 
And  staff;    for  they  had  waited  by  the  sea 
Till  He  came  o'er  from  Gadarene,  and  prayed 
For  His  wont  teachings  as  He  came  to  land. 
His  hair  was  parted  meekly  on  His  brow. 
And  the  long  curls  from  off  His  shoulders  fell 
As  He  leaned  forward  earnestly,  and  still 
The  same  calm  cadence,  passionless  and  deep, 
And  in  His  looks  the  same  mild  majesty. 
And  in  His  mien  the  sadness  mixed  with  power, 
Filled  them  with  love  and  wonder. 

Suddenly, 
As  on  His  words  entrancedly.  they  hung. 
The  crowd  divided,  and  among  them  stood 
Jairus  the  Ruler.     With  his  flowing  robe 
Gathered  in  haste  about  his  loins,  he  came,    . 
And  fixed  his  eyes  on  Jesus.     Closer  drew 
The  twelve  disciples  to  their  Master's  side. 
And  silently  the  people  shrunk  away. 
And  left  the  haughty  Ruler  in  the  midst 
Alone.     A  moment  longer  on  the  face 


.lAIRUS'    DAUGHTER.  115 

Of  the  meek  Nazarene  he  kept  his  gaze, 

And  as  the  twelve  looked  on  him,  by  the  light 

Of  the  clear  moon,  they  saw  a  glistening  tear 

Steal  to  his  silver  beard,  and,   drawing  nigh 

Unto  the  Saviour's  feet,  he  took  the  hem 

Of   His  coarse  mantle,  and  with  trembling  hands 

Pressed  it  upon  his  lips,   and  murmured   low, 

''Master,  my  daughter  T' 

The  same  silvery  light 
That  shone  upon  the  lone  rock  by  the  sea 
Slept  on  the  Ruler's  lofty  capitals 
As  at  the  door  he  stood,  and  welcomed  in 
Jesus  and  His  disciples.     All  was  still. 
The  echoing  vestibule  gave  back  the  slide 
Of  their  loose  sandals,   and  the  arrowy  beam 
Of  moonlight,   slanting  to  the  marble  floor, 
Lay  like  a  spell  of  silence  in  the  rooms, 
As  Jairus  led  them  on.     With  hushing  steps 
He  trod  the  winding  stair ;    but,   ere  he  touched 
The  latchet,   from  within  a  whisper  came  : 
''Trouble  the  Master  not, — -for  she  is  dead  f 
And  his  faint  hand  fell  nerveless  at  his  side, 
And  his  steps  faltered,  and  his  broken  voice 
Choked  in.  its  utterance.     But  a  gentle  hand 
Was  laid  upon  his  arm,  and  in  his  ear 
The  Saviour's  voice  sank  thrillingly  and  low, 
"She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepethy 

They  passed  in. 
The  spice-lamps  in  the  alabaster  urns 


116  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Burned  dimly,  and  the  white  and  fragrant  smoke 

Curled  indolently  on  the  chamber  walls. 

The  silken  curtains  slumbered  in  their  folds, — 

Not  even  a  tassel  stirrins;  in  the  air, — 

And  as  the  Saviour  stood  beside  the  bed, 

And  prayed  inaudibly,  the  Ruler  heard 

The  quickening  division  of   His  breath 

As  He  grew  earnest  inwardly.     There  came 

A  gradual  brightness  o'er  His  calm,   sad  face  ; 

And,  drawing  nearer  to  the  bed,   He  moved 

The  silken  curtains  silently  apart 

And  looked  upon  the  maiden. 

Like  a  form 
Of  matchless  sculpture,   in  her  sleep  she  lay, — 
The  linen  vesture  folded  on  her  breast, 
And  over  it  her  white,  transparent  hands, 
The  blood  still  rosy  in  tlieir  tapering  nails. 
A  line  of  pearl  ran  through  her  parted  lips, 
And  in  her  nostrils,   spiritually  thin, 
The  breathing  curve  was  mockingly  like  life, 
And  round  beneath  the  faintly-tinted  skin 
Ran  the  light  branches  of   the  azure  veins  ; 
And  on  her  cheek  the  jet  lash  overlay, 
Matching  the  arches  pencilled  on  lier  brow. 
Her  hair  had  been  unbound,   and,   fidling  loose 
Upon  her  pillow,  hid  her  small,  round  ears 
In  curls  of   glossy  blackness,   and  about 
Her  polished  neck,  scarce  touching  it,  they  hunr^-, 
Like  airy  shadows  floating  as  they  slept. 
'Twas  heavenly  beautiful.     The  Saviour  raised 


A    HYMN    FOR    ALL    NATIONS.  IT 

Her  lianci  from  off  her  bosom,  and  spread  out 
The  snowy  fingers  in  His  palm,  and  said, 
''Maiden/    Arise T' — and  suddenly  a  flush 
Shot  o'er  her  forehead,  and  along  her  Hps 
And  through  her  cheek  the  rallied  color  ran, 
And  the  still  outline  of  her  graceful  form 
Stirred  in  the  linen  vesture,  and  she  clasped 
The  Saviour's  hand,  and,  fixing  her  dark  eyes 
Full  on  His  beaming  countenance,  aeose. 

N.  P.  Willis. 


A  HYMN  FOE  ALL  NATIONS. 

SUNG   AT   THE    GEEAT   EXHIBITION   IN   LONDON,    1851, 

AND   TRANSLATED   INTO   THIRTY   LANGUAGES 

IN    UPWARDS    OF    FIFTY   VERSIONS. 

Gloeious  God,  on  Thee  we  call, 
Father,   Friend,  and  Judge  of   all ; 
Floly  Saviour,  heavenly  King, 
FIomao;e  to  Thv  throne  we  brino; ! 

In  the  w^onders  all  around 
Ever  is  Thy  Spirit  found. 
And  of   each  good  thing  we  see 
All  the  good  is  born  of   Thee  ! 

30 


118  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Thine  the  beauteous  skill  that  lurks 
Everywhere  in  liature's  works  ; 
Thine  is  Art,  with  all  its  worth, 
Thine  each  master-piece  on  earth. 

Yea,  and,   foremost  in  the  van,' 
Springs  from  Thee  the  Mind  of   Man ; 
On  its  light,   for  this  is  Thine, 
Shed  abroad  the  love  divine ! 

Lo,  our  God,  Thy  children  here 

From  all  realms  are  gathered  near, 

Wisely  gathered,  gathering  still. 

For  "peace  on  earth,  towards  men  good  will!" 

May  we,  with  fraternal  mind, 
Bless  our  Brothers  of  mankind ! 
May  we,  through  redeeming  love, 
Be  the  blest  of  Grod  above ! 


LITANY   HYMN. 

Saviour,  when  in  dust  to  Thee 
Low  we  bow  th'  adoring  knee  ; 
AVhen,  repentant,  to  the  skies 
Scarce  we  lift  our  streaming  eyes ; 
Oh,  by  all  Thy  pains  and  woe. 
Suffered  once  for  man  below. 


LITANY    IIYMX.  119 

Bending  from  Thy  tlirone  on  hish 
Hear  our  solemn  litanv. 

By  Thy  birth  and  early  years, 
By  Tliy  human  griefs  and  fears, 
By  Thy  fasting  and  distress 
In  the  lonely  wilderness  : 
By  Thy  victory  in   the  hour 
Of  the  subtle  tempter's  power; 
Jesus,  look  with  pitying  eye  ; 
Hear  our  solemn  litany. 

By  Thine  hour  of   dark  despair, 

By  Thine  agony  of   prayer, 

By  the  purple  robe  of   scorn. 

By  Thy  wounds,  Thy.  crown  of   thorn. 

By  Thy  cross,  Thy  pangs  and  cries, 

By  Thy  perfect  sacrifice  ; 

Jesus,  look  with  pitying  eye ; 

Hear  our  solemn  litany. 

By  Thy  deep  expiring  groan, 
By  the  sealed  sepulchral  stone, 
By  Thy  triumph  o'er  the  grave. 
By  Thy  power  from  death  to  save  ; 
Mighty  God,  ascended  Lord, 
To  Thy  throne  in  heaven  restored, 
Prince  and  Saviour,  hear  our  cry. 
Hear  our  solemn  litany. 


1:^0 


SO^^tiS    OF    PRAISE. 


GOD  S-ACRE. 


I  LIKE  that  ancient  Saxon  phrase,  which  calls 
The  burial-ground  God's- Acre  !     It  is  just : 

It  consecrates  each  grave  within  its  walls, 

And  breathes  a  benison  o'er  the  sleeping  dust. 


CHRISTMAS    EVEN.  121 

God's-Acre  !     Yes,  tliat  blessed  name  imparts 
Comfort  to  those  who  in  the  grave  have  sown 

The  seed  that  they  had  garnered  in  their  hearts, — 
Their  bread  of  Hie,  alas  !    no  more  their  own. 

Into  its  furrows  shall  we  all  be  cast. 

In  the  sure  faith  that  we  shall  rise  again 

At  the  great  harvest,  when  the  archangel's  blast 
Shall  winnow,   like  a  fan,  the  chaff  and  grain. 

Then  shall  the  good  stand  in  immortal  bloom 
In  the  fair  gardens  of   that  second  birth, 

And  each  bright  blossom  mingle  its  perfume 

With  that  of  flowers  which  never  bloomed  on  earth. 

With  thy  rude  ploughsh^e,  Death,  turn  up  the  sod, 

And  spread  the  furrow  for  the  seed  we  sow ; 
This  is  the  field  and  acre  of  our  God, 

This  is  the  ijlace  where  human  harvests  o-row  ! 

If-, 

LoNGFELIbOW. 


CHRISTMAS   EVEN. 


Dark  night  broods  o'er  the  city. 

Veiling  the  Temple's  sheen, 
And  o'er  the  fields  where  shepherds  keep 

Their  sheep  in  Palestine. 


31 


122  SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 

Dark  night  is  on  the  nations  ; 

BHnd  Pharisee  and  scribe 
Grope  vainly  for  the  glory-hght 

Of  Judah's  Lion  tribe. 

"Let  there  be  hght !"    0  Highest, 

As  when  this  earth  began  ; 
The  dawn  shall  rise  on  Nature, 

Bid  Thy  dawning  rise  on  man  ! 
The  Temple  hears  no  tidings, 

The  Ark  receives  no  light, 
Not  to  Jerusalem  the  Fair 

Appear  the  Heralds  bright. 

Ah  !    not  to  Herod,  Tetrarch, 

Nor  to  Sanhedrim  old. 
With  pomp  and  ceremonial. 

Shall  the  glad  news  be  told. 
Though  Anna  dwelleth  watching 

In  chastity  and  tears. 
Though  Simeon  to  "depart  in  peace" 

Hath  waited  fourscore  years ; 

Yet  in  tlie  fields,  to  shepherds 

Like  to  the  sheep  they  tend, 
"The  heavens  declare  the  glory"  forth, 

The  highest  heavens  descend. 
And  now  to  you  who,  watching 

Like  shepherds,  seek  the  sign. 
To  you  shall  Christ  the  Lord  be  born 

As  once  in  Palestine. 


THE  ECHOES  OF  THE  ANGELs'  SONG.        123 

Fly  open,  hearts  like  mangers, 

For  Him  no  fitting  inn ; 
Prepare  ye  for  the  Infant  God ; 

Scourge  out  each  brute-like  sin ; 
Make  ready  gifts  of  innocence 

To  greet  the  coming  morn  : 
Then  o'er  your  hearts  His  star  shall  rest, 

And  there  He  shall  be  born. 

H.   COPPEE. 


THE  ECHOES  OF  THE  ANGELS'   SOl^G. 

"Glory  be  to  God  on  high!" 

Such  the  wondrous  story : 
Hark !    an  earthly  echo  hears 

And  sends  back — the  "Glorv!" 


"  Peace  on  earth  !    good  will  to  men 
Thus  the  song  doth  cease. 

Stay  :    one  strain  -  of  angel  music 
Echoes  back — the  "Peace!" 

H.  CoPPEE. 


124 


SONGS    OF  ■  PKAISE. 


THE   FLOWERS   OF   GOD. 


The  welcome  flowers  are  blossoming, 
In   joyous  troops  revealed ; 

They  lift  their  dewy  buds  and  bells 
In  garden,  mead,  and  field  : 

They  lurk  in  every  sunless  path, 
Where  forest  children  tread; 


THE    FLOWEES    OF    GOD.  125 

They  dot,  like  stars,  the  sacred  turf, 
Which  hes  above  the  dead. 

They  sport  "with  every  playful  wind 

That  stirs  the  blooming  trees, 
And  laugh  on  every  fragrant  bush, 

All  full  of   toiling  bees  : 
From  the  green  marge  of  lake  and  stream. 

Fresh  vale  and  mountain  sod, 
They  look  in  gentle  glory  forth, — 

The  pure  sweet  flowers  of  God. 

They  come,  with  genial  airs  and  skies, 

In  summer's  golden  prime, 
And  to  the  stricken  world  give  back 

Lost  Eden's  blissful  clime  : 
Outshining  Solomon  they  come. 

And  go  full  soon  away ; 
But  yet,  like  him,  they  meekly  breathe 

True  wisdom  while  they  stay. 

"If  God,"  they  whisper,   "smiles  on  us. 

And  bids  us  bloom  and  shine. 
Does  He  not  mark,  0  faithless  man  ! 

Each  wish  and  V\'ant  of  thine? 
Think,  too,  what  joys  await  in  Heaven 

The  blest  of  human  birth, 
When  rapture  such  as  woos  thee  now 

Can  reach  the  bad  on  earth!" 

32 


126  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Redeemer  of  a  fallen  race, 

Most  merciful  of  kings, 
Thy  hallowed  words  have  clothed  with  power 

Those  frail  and  beauteous  things  : 
All  taught  by  Thee,  they  yearly  speak 

Their  message  of  deep  love. 
Bidding  us  fix,  for  life  and  death, 

Our  hearts  and  hopes  above. 

J.  G.  Lyons. 


THE  ROYAL  BANKERS. 

The  Royal  Banners  forward  go ; 
The  Cross  shines  forth  in  mystic  glow ; 
Where  He  in  flesh,  our  flesh  Who  made, 
Our  sentence  bore,  our  ransom  paid. 

There  whilst  He  hung.  His  sacred  Side 
By  soldier's  spear  was  opened  wide. 
To  cleanse  us  in  the  precious  flood 
Of   Water  mingled  with  His  Blood. 

Fulfilled  is  now  what  David  told 

In  true  prophetic  song  of   old, 

How  God  the  heathen's  Kino;  should  be ; 

CD  ' 

For  God  is  reigning  from  the  tree. 


THE    ROYAL    BANNERS.  127 

0  tree  of  glory,  tree  most  fair, 
Ordained  those  Holy  Limbs  to  bear! 
How  briglit  in  purple  robe  it  stood, 
The  purple  of  a  Saviour's  Blood ! 

Upon  its  arms,  like  balance  true. 
He  weighed  the  price  for  sinners  due, — 
The  price  which  none  but  He  could  pay, — 
And  spoiled  the  spoiler  of  his  prey. 

To  Thee,  Eternal  Three  in  One, 
Let  homage  meet  by  all  be  done  : 
As  by  the  Cross  Thou  dost  restore. 
So  rule  and  guide  us  evermore. 


0  Life,  0  Death,  0  World,  0  Time, 
0  Grave,  where  all  things  flow, 

'Tis  yours  to  make  our  lot  sublime 
With  your  great  weight  of  woe  ! 

Though  sharpest  anguish  hearts  may  wring. 

Though  bosoms  torn  may  be. 
Yet  suffering  is  a  holy  thing : 

Without  it,  what  were  we? 

Trexch. 


]28 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE, 


RESIGNATION. 


There  is  no  flock,  however  watched  and  tended, 

But  one  dead  Lamb  is  there ! 
There  is  no  fireside,  howsoe'er  defended, 

But  has  one  vacant  chair ! 


EESIGNATION.  129 

The  air  is  full  of  farewells  to  the  dying, 

And  mournings  for  the  dead  ; 
The  heart  of   Eachel,  for  her  children  crying, 

Will  not  be  comforted ! 

Let  us  be  patient!     These  severe  afflictions 

Xot  from  the  ground  arise, 
But  oftentimes  celestial  benedictions 

Assume  this  dark  disguise. 

We  see  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapors ; 

Amid  these  earthly  damps, 
What   seem  to   us  but  sad,  funereal  tapers 

May  be  heaven's  distant  lamps. 

There  is  no  Death  !     What  seems  so  is  transition. 

This  life  of  mortal  breath 
Is  but  a  suburb  of   the  life  elysian 

Whose  portal  we  call  Death. 

She  is  not  dead, — the  child  of   our  affection, — 

But  gone  unto  that  school 
AVhere  she  no  longer  needs  our  poor  protection, 

And  Christ  Himself  doth  rule. 


In  that  great  cloister's  stillness  and  seclusion, 

By  guardian  angels  led. 
Safe  from  temptation,  safe  from  sin's"  pollution. 

She  lives,  whom  we  call  dead. 

33 


130  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Day  after  day  we  think  what  she  is  doing 

In  those  bright  realms  of  air ; 
Year  after  year,  her  tender  steps  pursuing, 

Behold  her  grown  more  fair. 

Thus  do  we  walk  with  her,  and  keep  unbroken 

The  bond  which  nature  gives, 
Thinking  that  our  remembrance,  though  unspoken, 

May  reach  her  where  she  lives. 

Not  as  a  child  shall  we  again  behold  her; 

For  when  with  raptures  wild 
In  our  embraces  we  again  enfold  her, 

She  will  not  be  a  child ; 

But  a  fair  maiden,  in  her  Father's  mansion, 

Clothed  with  celestial  grace ; 
And  beautiful  with  all  the  soul's  expansion 

Shall  we  behold  her  face. 

And  though  at  times,  impetuous  with  emotion 

And  anguish  long  suppressed. 
The  swelling  heart  heaves  moaning  like  the  ocean, 

That  cannot  be  at  rest, — 

We  will  be  patient,  and  assuage  the  feeling 

We  may  not  wholly  stay  ; 
By  silence  sanctifying,  not  concealing, 

The  grief  that  must  have  way. 

Longfellow. 


HAVE     MEKCY  !  131 


HAVE  MERCY! 

LoKD,  many  times  I  am.  aweary  quite 

Of  mine  own  self,  my  sin,  my  vanity  ; 
Yet  be  not  Thou — or  I  am  lost  outright — ■ 
Weary  of-  me. 

And  hate  against  myself  I  often  bear, 

And  enter  with  myself   in  fierce  debate  : 
Take  Thou  my  part  against  myself,  nor  share 
In  that  just  hate  ! 

Best  friends  might  loathe  us  if  what  things  perverse 

We  know  of  our  own  selves  they  also  knew : 
Lord,  Holy  One,  if  Thou  who  knowest  worse 
Shouldst  loathe  us  too ! 

Trench. 


132 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


JEEUSALEM. 


Jerusalem,  thou  City 'blest! 
Dear  vision  of   celestial  rest, 


JEKUSALEM.  133 

Which  far  above  the  starry  sky, 
Piled  up  with  hving  stones  on  high, 
Art,  as  a  Bride,  encircled  bright 
With  million  angel  forms  of  light : 

Oh,  wedded  in  a  prosperous  hour. 

The  Father's  glory  was  thy  dower ; 

The  Spirit  all  His  graces  shed. 

Thou  peerless  Queen,   upon  thy  head ; 

When  Clirist  espoused  thee  for  His  Bride, 

0  City  bright  and  glorified  ! 

Thy  gates  a  pearly  lustre  pour ; 

Thy  gates  are  open  evermore  ; 

And  thither  evermore  draw  nigh 

All  who  for  Christ  have  dared  to  die. 

Or,  smit  with  love  of  their  dear  Lord, 

Have  pains  endured,  and  joys  abhorred. 

Thou  too,  0  Church,  which  here  we  see ! 
No  easy  task  hath  builded  thee. 
Long  did  the  chisels  ring  around ; 
Long  did  the  mallets'  blows  rebound ; 
Long  worked  the  head  and  toiled  the  hand, 
Ere  stood  thy  stones  as  now  they  stand  ! 

Breviary. 


34 


134  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


THE  GOD   OF  LOVE. 

The  God  of  love  my  Sliepherd  is, 
And  He  that  dotli  me  feed ; 

While  He  is  mine,  and  I  am  His, 
What  can  I  want  or  need? 

He  leads  me  to  the  tender  grass, 
Where  I  both  feed  and  rest ; 

Then  to  the  streams  that  gently  pass; 
In  both  I  have  the  best. 

Or,  if  I  stray,  He  doth  convert. 
And  bring  my  mind  in  frame. 

And  all  this,  not  for  my  desert, 
But  for  His  lioly  name. 

Yea,  in  death's  shady,  black  abode 

Well  may  I  walk,  nor  fear: 
For  Thou  art  with  me,  and  Thy  rod 

To  guide,  Thy  staff  to  bear. 

■ 
Nay,  Thou  dost  make  me  sit  and  dine, 

Ev'n  in  my  enemies'  sight. 


THE    GOD    OF    LOVE. 


135 


My  head  with  oil,  my  cup  with  wine 
Runs  over,  day  and  night. 

Surely  Thy  sweet  and  wondrous  love 
Shall  measure  all  my  days ; 

And,  as  it  never  shall  remove, 
So  neither  shall  my  praise. 

Herbert. 


136  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


STABAT  MATER  DOLOROSA. 

At  die  cross  her  station  keeping, 
Stood  the  mournful  mother  weeping, 

Where  He  hung,  the  dying  Lord; 
For  her  soul,  of  joy  bereave'd, 
Bowed  with  anguish,  deeply  grieved, 

Felt  the  sharp  and  piercing  sword. 

Oh,  how  sad  and  sore  distressed 
Now  was  she,  that  mother  blessed 

Of  the  Sole-begotten  One ; 
Deep  the  woe  of   her  affliction 
When  she  saw  the  Crucifixion 

Of  her  ever-glorious  Son. 

Who  on  Christ's  dear  mother  gazing, 
Pierced  by  anguish  so  amazing. 

Born  of  woman,  would  not  weep? 
Who  on  Christ's  dear  mother  thinking, 
Such  a  cup  of   sorrow  drinking, 

Would  not  sljare  her  sorrows  deep? 

For  His  people's  sins  chastised, 
She  beheld  Iht  Son  despised, 

Scourged,  and  crowned  with  thorns  entwined 


A    WREATH.  137 


Saw  Him  then  from  judgment  taken, 
And  in  death  by  all  forsaken, 
Till  His  spirit  He  resigned. 

Jesu,  may  such  deep  devotion 
Stir  in  me  the  same  emotion, 

Fount  of  love.  Redeemer  kind. 
That  my  heart,  fresh  ardor  gaining 
And  a  purer  love  attaining, 

May  with  Thee  acceptance  find ! 


A  AVREATH. 


A  WREATHED  garland  of  deserved  praise, 

Of  praise  deserved,  unto  Thee  I  give ; 

I  give  to  Thee,   who  knowest  all  my  ways, 

My  crooked  winding  ways,  wherein  I  live. 

Wherein  I  die,  not  live;    for  life  is  straight. 

Straight  as  a  line,  and  ever  tends  to  Thee, — 

To  Thee,  who  art  more  far  above  deceit 

Than  deceit  seems  above  simplicity. 

Give  me  simplicity,  that  I  may  live ; 

So  live  and  like,  that  I  may  know  Thy  ways ; 

Know  them  and  practise  them.     Then  shall  I  give 

For  this  poor  wreath,  give  Thee  a  crown  of  praise. 

Herbert. 

35 


138  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  SILENT   TOWER. 

TiNTADGEL  bells  ring  o'er  the  tide  ! 
The  boy  leans  on  his  vessel  side, — 
He  hears  that  sound,  and  dreams  of  home 
Soothe  the  wild  orphan  of  the  foam. 
"Come  to  thy  God  in  time!" 
Thus  saith  their  pealing  chime  : 
"Youth,  manhood,  old  age,  past, 
Come  to  thy  God  at  last!" 

But  why  are  Bottreaux'  echoes  still  ? 

Her  tower  stands  proudly  on  the  hill : 

Yet  the  strange  chough  that  home  hath  found, 

The  lamb  lies  sleeping  on  the  ground. 

Come  to  thy  God  in  time  ! 

Should  be- her  answering  chime, 

Come  to  tliy  God  at  last ! 

Should  echo  on  the  blast. 

The  ship  rode  down  with  courses  free, 
The  daughter  of   a  distant  sea ; 
Her  sheet  was  loose,  her  anchor  stored, — 
The  merry  Bottreaux  bells  on  board. 


THE   SILENT   TOWER. 


139 


"  Come  to  thy  God  in  time !" 
Rung  out  Tintadgel  chime : 
"  Youth,  manhood,  old  age,  past, 
Come  to  thy  God  at  last !" 


The  pilot  heard  his  native  bells 
Hang  on  the  breeze  in  fitful  swells; 


140  SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 

"Thank  God!"  with  reverent  brow,  he  cried, 
"We  make  the  shore  with  evening's  tide!" 

Come  to  thy  Grod  in  time  ! 

It  was  his  marriage  chime  : — 

Youth,  manhood,  old  age,  past, 

His  bell  must  ring  at  last ! 

Thank  God,  thou  whining  knave,  on  land ! 
But  thank,  at  sea,  the  steersman's  hand, 
The  captain's  voice  above  the  gale, — 
Thank  the  good  ship  and  ready  sail ! 
Come  to  thy  God  in  time  ! 
Sad  grew  the  bodino;  chime  : 
Come  to  thy  God  at  last, — 
Boomed  heavy  on  the  blast ! 

Uprose  that  sea,  as  if  it  heard 
The  mighty  Master's  signal  word ! 
What  thrills  the  captain's  whitening  lip? 
The  death-groans  of  his  sinking  ship. 

Come  to  thy  God  in  time  ! 

Swung  deep  the  funeral  cliime  : 

Grace,  mercy,  kindness,  pa^^i, 

Come  to  thy  God  at  last ! 

Long  did  the  rescued  pilot  tell. 
When  gray  hairs  o'er  his  forehead  fell, 
While  those  around  would  hear  and  wee]). 
Tliat  fearful   judgment  of   the  deep  ! 

Come  to  thy  God  hi  time  ! 

He  read  his  native  cliime  : 

Youth,  manhood,   old  age,  past. 

His  bell  rune;  out  at  last! 


THE    SILENT   TOWER. 


141 


Still,  when  the  storm  of   Bottreaux"  waves 
Is  wakening  in  his  weedy  caves, 
Those  bells  that  sullen  surges  hide 
Peal  their  deep  notes  beneath  the  tide. 

Come  to  thy  God  in  time  ! 

Thus  saith  the  ocean  chime : 

Storm,  billow,  whirlwind,  past. 

Come  to  thy  God  at  last. 

K.  S.  Hawker. 


36 


142  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


STRIVE. 

Strive,  when  thou  art  called  of  God, 
When  He  draws  thee  by  His  grace, 

Strive  to  cast  away  the  load 

That  would  clog  thee  in  the  race ! 

Fight,  though  it  may  cost  thy  life, 
Storm  the  kingdom,  but  prevail ; 

Let  not  Satan's  fiercest  strife 

Make  thee,  warrior,  faint  or  quail. 

Wrestle,  till  through  every  vein 

Love  and  strength  are  glowing  warm,- 

Love  that  can  the  world  disdain : 
Half-love  will  not  bide  the  storm. 

Wrestle,  with  strong  prayers  and  cries, 
Think  no  time  too  much  to  spend, 

Though  the  night  be  passed  in  sighs. 
Though  all  day  thy  voice  ascend. 

Hast  thou  won  the  pearl  of  price? 

Think  not  thou  hast  reached  the  goal. 
Conquered  every  sin  and  vice 

That  had  power  to  harm  thy  soul. 


STRIVE.  143 

Gaze  with  mingled  joy  and  fear 

On  the  refuge  thou  hast  found ; 
Know,  while  yet  we  linger  here 

Perils  ever  hem  us  round. 

Art  thou  faithful  ?    then  oppose 

Sin  and  wrong  with  all  thy  might ; 

Care  not  how  the  tempest  blows, 
Only  care  to  win  the  fight. 

Art  thou  faithful?     Wake  and  watch, 
Love  with  all  thy  heart  Christ's  ways, 

Seek  not  transient  ease  to  snatch, 
Look  not  for  reward  or  praise. 

Art  thou  faithful?     Stand  apart 

From  all  worldly  hope  and  pleasure, 

Yonder  fix  your  hopes  and  heart, 

On  the  heaven  where  lies  our  treasure. 

Soldiers  of  the  Cross,  be  strong, 
Watch  and  war  mid  fear  and  pain, 

Daily  conquering  woe  and  wrong. 
Till  our  King  o'er  earth  shall  reign ! 

Winkler. 


144 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


SUNDAY. 


0  DAY  most  calm,  most  bright ! 
The  fruit  of   this,   the  next  world's  bud 
Th'  indorsement  of   supreme  delight, 
Writ  by  a  Friend,  and  with  His  blood 


SUNDAY.  145 

The  couch  of  time ;    care's  bahn  and  bay  : — 
The  week  were  dark,  but  for  thy  light; 
Thy  torch  doth  show  the  way. 

The  other  days  and  thou 
Make  up  one  man;     whose  face  thou  art. 
Knocking  at  heaven  with  thy  brow  ; 
The  worky  days  are  the  back-part ; 
The  burden  of   the  week  hes  there, 
Making  the  whole  to  stoop  and  bow, 

Till  thy  release  appear. 

Man  had  straight  forward  gone 
To  endless  death.     But  thou  dost  pull 
And  turn  us  round,  to  look  on  one 
Whom,  if  we  were  not  very  dull. 
We  could  .not  choose  but  look  on  still ; 
Since  there  is  no  place  so  alone, 

The  which  He  doth  not  fill. 

Sundays  the  pillars  are 
On  which  heaven's  palace  arched  lies  : 
The  other  days  fill  up  the  spare 
And  hollow  room  with  vanities. 
They  are  the  fruitful  bed  and  borders 
In  God's  rich  garden;    that  is  bare 

Which  parts  their  ranks  and  orders. 

The  Sundays  of  man's  life, 
Threaded  together  on  Time's  strins;, 

37 


146  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Make  bracelets  to  adorn  the  wife 
Of   tlie  eternal,  glorious  King. 
On  Sunday,  heaven's  gate  stands  ope ; 
Blessings  are  plentiful  and  rife  ; 
More  plentiful  than  hope. 

This  day  my  Saviour  rose, 
And  did  inclose  this  light  for  His, 
That,  as  each  beast  his  manger  knows, 
Man  mio;ht  not  of  his  fodder  miss. 
Christ  hath  took  in  this  piece  of   ground. 
And  made  a  garden  there,  for  those 

Who  want  herbs  for  their  wound. 

The  Rest  of   our  creation 
Our  great  Redeemer  did  remove 
With  the  same  shake  which,  at  His  passion. 
Did  th'  earth,  and  all  things  with  it,  move. 
As  Samson  bore  the  doors  away, 
Christ's  hands,  though  nailed,  wrought  our  salvation. 

And  did  unhinge  that  day. 

The  brightness  of  that  day  < 

We  sullied  by  our  foul  offence  ; 
Wherefore  that  robe  we  east  away, 
Having  a  new  at  His  expense, 
Whose  drops  of  blood  paid  the  full  price 
That  was  required  to  make  us  gay 

And  fit  for  paradise. 

Thou  art  a  day  of  mirth  : 
And,  where  the  week-days  trail  on  ground, 


AUDI,'    TELLUS,    AUDI.  147 

Thy  flight  is  higher,  as  tliy  birtli. 
Oh,  let  me  take  thee  at  the  bound. 
Leaping  with  thee  from  seven  to  seven, 
Till  that  we  both,  being  tossed  from  earth, 
Fly  hand  in  hand  to  heaven ! 

Herbert. 


AUDI,   TELLUS,   AUDL 

ADVENT  HYMN  OF  THE  ELEVENTH  CENTUKY. 

Hear,  Earth,  hear  Gods  decree, 
Cave  of  the  mighty  sea ! 
Hear,  man !    hear  every  one 
Dwellino;  beneath  the  sun ! 

It  Cometh !    it  is  near, 
The  day  of  wrath  and  fear ! 
Woe  for  that  bitter  day. 
When  shrinks  the  heaven  away! 
Gloweth  the  sun  blood-red  ; 
Afar  the  pale  moon  flieth  ; 
Morning  in  blackness  dieth ; 
Earthward  the  wan  stars  fall. 
Upon  that  day  of  dread, 
Woe !  woe  for  sinners  all ! 
In  guilt  and  misery. 
What  shall  our  portion  be  ? 

Washburn. 


148 


SOi^GS    OF    PEAISE. 


THE  CURATE. 


Near  yonder  copse,  where  once  the  garden  smiled, 
And  still  where  many  a  garden-flower  grows  wild. 


THE    CURATE.  149 

There,  where  a  few  torn  shrubs  the  place  disclose, 

The  village  preacher's  modest  mansion  rose. 

A  man  he  was  to  all  the  country  dear. 

And  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year ; 

Remote  from  towns  he  ran  his  godly  race, 

Nor  e'er  had  changed,  nor  wished  to  change,  his  place  ; 

Unskilful  he  to  fawn,  or  seek  for  power. 

By  doctrines  fashioned  to  the  varying  hour ; 

Far  other  aims  his  heart  had  learned  to  prize, 

More  bent  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  rise. 

His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant  train. 

He  chid  their  wanderings,  but  relieved  their  pain  ; 

The  long-remembered  beggar  was  his  guest, 

Whose  beard  descending  swept  his  aged  breast ; 

The  ruined  spendthrift,  now  no  longer  proud, 

Claimed  kindred  there,  and  had  his  claims  allowed ; 

The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay, 

Sate  by  his  fire,  and  talked  the  night  away  ; 

Wept  o'er  his  wounds,  or,  tales  of   sorrow  done, 

Shouldered  his  crutch,  and  showed  how  fields  were  won. 

Pleased  with  his  guests,  the  good  man  learned  to  glow, 

And  Cjuite  forgot  their  vices  in  their  woe  : 

Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  scan, 

His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began. 

Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride. 

And  e'en  his  failing's  leaned  to  virtue's  side  ; 

But  in  his  duty  prompt  at  every  call. 

He  watched  and  wept,  he  prayed  and  felt  for  all ; 

And,   as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 

To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 

38 


150  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

He  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull  delay, 
Allured  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way. 

Beside  the  bed  wliere  parting  life  was  laid, 
And  sorrow,  guilt,   and  pain,  by  turns  dismayed, 
The  reverend  champion  stood.      At  his  control, 
Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul ; 
Comfort  came  down  the  trembling  wretch  to  raise, 
And  his  last  faltering  accents  whispered  praise. 

At  church,   with  meek  and  unaffected  grabe. 

His  looks  adorned  the  venerable  place ; 

Truth  from  his  lips  prevailed  with  double  sway, 

And  fools,  who  came  to  scoff,  remained  to  pray. 

The  service  past,  around  the  pious  man, 

With  ready  zeal,   each  honest  rustic  ran  ; 

E'en  children  followed,  with  endearing  wile, 

And  plucked  his  gown,  to  share  the  "good  man's  smile. 

His  ready  smile  a  parent's  warmth  exprest, 

Their  welfare  pleased  him,  and  their  cares  distrest ; 

To  them  his  heart,  his  love,  his  griefs,  were  given, 

But  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  heaven. 

As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form, 

Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm, 

Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread, 

Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head. 

Goldsmith. 


GASTLES. 


151 


CASTLES. 


Let  them  that  would  build  castles  in  the  air 
Vault  thither,  without  step  or  stair, 
Instead  of   feet  to  climb,  take  wings  to  fly, 
And  think  their  turret's  top  the  sky. 
But  let  me  lay  all  my  foundations  deep. 
And  learn,  before  I  run,   to  creep. 
Who  dio-s  throuo;h  rocks  to  lay  his  oTOund-works  low 
May  in  good  time  build  high,   and  sure,  though  slow. 

Chkistopher  Harvey. 


152  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


GOD  IN  NATURE. 

Go  forth,  my  heart,  and  seek  deHght 
In  all  the  gift.s  of   God's  great  might, 

These  pleasant  summer  hours : 
Look  how  the  plains  for  thee  and  me 
Have  decked  themselves  most  fair  to  see, 

All  bright  and  sweet  with  flowers. 

The  trees  stand  thick  and  dark  with  leaves, 
And  earth  o'er  all  her  dust  now  weaves 

A  robe  of   living  green  ; 
Nor  silks  of  Solomon  compare 
With  glories  that  the  tulips  wear, 

Or  lilies'   spotless  sheen. 

The  lark  soars  singing  into  space, 
The  dove  forsakes  her  hiding-place. 

And  coos  the  woods  among ; 
The  richly-gifted  nightingale 
Pours  forth  her  voice  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

And  floods  the  fields  with  song. 

Here  with  her  brood  the  hen  doth  walk. 
There  builds  and  guards  his  nest  the  stork, 
The  fleet- winged  swallows  pass ; 


GOD    IN    NATUEE. 


153 


The  swift  stag  leaves  his  rocky  home, 
And  down  the  light  deer  bounding  come 
To  taste  the  long  rich  grass. 


<■-     ^- 


The  brooks  rush  gurgling  through  the  sand, 
And  from  the  trees  on  either  hand 
Cool  shadows  o'er  them  fall  ; 


39 


154:  SOI^GS    OF    PEAISE. 

The  meadows  at  their  side  are  glad 
With  herds  ;  and,  hark !  the  shepherd  lad 
Sends  forth  his  mirthful  call. 

And  humming,  hovering  to  and  fro, 
The  never-wearied  swarms  forth  go 

To  seek  their  honeyed  food ; 
And  through  the  vine's  yet  feeble  shoots 
Stream  daily  upwards  from  her  roots 

New  strength  and  juices  good. 

The  corn  springs  up,  a  wealth  untold, 
A  sight  to  gladden  young  and  old, 

Who  now  their  voices  lift' 
To  Him  who  gives  such  plenteous  store, 
And  makes  the  cup  of  life  run  o'er 

With  many  a  noble  gift. 

Thy  mighty  working,  mighty  God, 
Wakes  all  my  powers ;    I  look  abroad 

And  can  no  longer  rest : 
I  too  must  sing  when  all  things  sing, 
And  from  my  heart  the  praises  ring 

The  Highest  loveth  best. 

I  think,  Art  Thou  so  good  to  us, 
And  scatterest  joy  and  beauty  thus 

O'er  this  poor  earth  of   ours ; 
What  nobler  glories  shall  be  given 
Hereafter  in  Thy  shining  heaven. 

Set  round  with  golden  towers  ! 


GOD    IN    NATURE.  155 

What  thrilling  joy  when  on  our  sight 
Christ's  garden  beams  in  cloudless  light, 

Where  all  the  air  is  sweet, 
Still  laden  with  the  unwearied  hymn 
From  all  the  thousand  seraphim 

Who  God's  high  praise  repeat ! 

Oh,  were  I  there  !     Oh  that  I  now, 
Dear  God,  before  Thy  throne  could  bow. 

And  bear  my  heavenly  palm ! 
Then  like  the  angels  would  I  raise 
My  voice, '  and  sing  Thy  endless  praise 

In  many  a  sweet-toned  psalm.  * 

Nor  can  I  now,  0  God,  forbear, 
Though  still  this  mortal  yoke  I  wear, 

To  utter  oft  Thy  name ; 
But  still  my  heart  is  bent  to  speak 
Thy  praises ;    still,  though  poor  and  weak. 

Would  I  set  forth  Thy  fame. 

But  help  me  ;    let  Thy  heavenly  showers 
Revive  and  bless  my  fainting  powers, 

And  let  me  thrive  and  grow 
Beneath  the  summer  of  Thy  grace, 
And  fruits  of  faith  bud  forth  apace 

While  yet  I  dwell  below. 

And  set  me,  Lord,  in  Paradise 
When  I  have  bloomed  beneath  these  skies 
Till  my  last  leaf   is  flown  ; 


156  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Thus  let  me  serve  Thee  here  in  time, 
And  after,  in  that  happier  clime, 
And  Thee,  my  G-od,  alone ! 

Paul  Gerhaedt. 


JAM  MCESTA  QUIESCE  QUERELA. 

PPXDENTirS,    FIFTH    CENTURY. 

• 

No  more,  ah,  no  more  sad  complaining, 
Resign  these  fond  pledges  to  earth; 

Stay,  mothers,  the  thick-falling  tear-drops  : 
This  death  is  a  heavenly  birth. 

What  mean  these  still  caverns  of  marble, 
Fair  shrines  that  the  dear  ashes  keep? 

How  sweetly  they  tell  of  the  loved  ones, 
Not  dead,  but  soft  resting  in  sleep ' 

What  though  on  the  pale,  icy  forehead 
No  gleam  of  the  intellect  break? 

A  moment  it  slumbers,  till  nobler 
Its  powers  in  their  beauty  awake. 

Soon,  soon  through  the  motionless  body 
The  warm,  loving  life-tide  shall  pour, 

And,  blushing  with  joy,  shall  revisit 
The  home  it  has  dwelt  in  before. 


JAM   MCESTA   QUIESCE    QUERELA.  157 

These  clods,   'neath  tlie  hillock  reposing, 

Long  wasting  in  silent  decay, 
Shall  follow  the  souls  that  have  loved  them. 

On  winged  winds  soaring  away. 

So  green  from  the  seed  springs  the  blossom, 
Long  perished,  long  hid  in  the  mould; 

And  fi'esh  fi'om  the  turf,  it  remembers 
The  wide-waving  harvests  of  old. 

Take,  Earth,  to  thy  bosom  so  tender, 
Take,  nourish  this  body.     How  fair, 

How  noble  in  death  !    we  surrender 
These  relics  of  man  to  thy  care. 

This,  this  was  the  home  of  the  spirit, 
Once  built  by  the  breath  of  our  God  ; 

And  here,  in  the  light  of  His  wisdom, 
Christ,  Head  of  the  risen,  abode. 

Guard  well  the  dear  treasure  we  lend  thee: 

The  Maker,  the  Saviour  of  men 
Shall  never  forget  His  beloved. 

But  claim  His  own  likeness  again. 

Speed  on,  perfect  year,  to  the  morning ; 

God's  fulness  shall  dawn  on  the  just, 
And  thou,  open  grave,  shalt  restore  us 

This  holy,  unchangeable  dust. 

Washburx. 

40 


158 


SOisrGS    OF   PEAISE. 


THE  CROSS. 


Are  thy  toils  and  woes  increasinfy? 
Are  the  Foe's  attacks  unceasino-? 


THE    CROSS.  159 

Look  witti  Faith  unclouded, 
Gaze  with  eyes  unshrouded, 
On  the  Cross ! 

Dost  thou  fear  that  strictest  trial? 
Tremblest  thou  at  Christ's  denial? 

Never  rest  without  it, 

Clasp  thine  arms  about  it, — 
That  dear  Cross ! 

Diabolic  legions  press  thee? 

Thoughts  and  works  of  sin  distress  thee? 

It  shall  chase  all  terror, 

It  shall  right  all  error, — 
That  sweet  Cross ! 

Draw'st  thou  nigh  to  Jordan's  river? 
Shouldst  thou  tremble?     Need'st  thou  quiver? 

No,  if  by  it  lying, — 

No,  if  on  it  dying, — 
On  the  Cross  ! 

Say,  then,   "Master,  while  I  cherish 
That  sweet  hope,  I  cannot  perish  ! 

After  this  life's  story, 

Give  Thou  me  the  glory 
For  the  Cross !" 

St.  Methodius. 


160 


SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


GOD'S   WORD. 


On,  blest  were  the  accents  of  early  creation, 

When  the  Word  of  Jehovah  came  down  from  above, 

In  the  clods  of  the  earth  to  infuse  animation, 
And  wake  their  cold  atoms  to  life  and  to  love ! 


fX)D's   WOED.  161 

And  mighty  the  tones  which  the  hrmament  rended, 
When  on  wheels  of  the  thunder,  and  win'j;s  of  the  wind, 

By  Hghtning,  and  hail,  and  thick  darkness  attended, 
He  uttered  on  Sinai  His  laws  to  mankind. 


And  sweet  was  the  voice  of  the  First-Born  of  Heaven 
(Though  poor  His  apparel,  though  earthly  His  form), 

Who  said  to  the  mourner,-  "Thy  sins  are  forgiven!" 
"  Be  whole  !"  to  the  sick,  and  "Be  still !"  to  the  storm. 

0  Judge  of   the  world,   when,  arrayed  in  Thy  glory. 
Thy  summons  again  shall  be  heard  from  on  high, 

While  nature  stands  trembling  and  naked  before  Thee, 
And  waits  on  Thy  sentence  to  live  or  to  die  ; 

When  the  Heaven  shall  fly  fast  from  the  sound  of  Thy 
thunder, 

And  the  sun  in  Thy  lightnings  grow  languid  and  pale. 
And  the  sea  yield  her  dead,  and  the  Tomb  cleave  asunder. 

In  the  hour  of  Thy  terrors,  let  mercy  prevail ! 

Heber. 


162 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


TO   MONT   BLANC. 


Hast  thou  a  charm  to  stay  the  morning  star 
In  his  steep  course  ?     So  long  he  seems  to  pause 
On  thy  bald  awful  head    0  sovereign  Blanc  ! 
The  Arve  and  Arveiron  at  thy  base 
Rave  ceaselessly ;    but  thou,  most  awful  Form, 
Risest  from  forth  thy  silent  sea  of  pines, 
How  silently !     Around  thee  and  above 
Deep  is  the  air  and  dark,  substantial,  bla-^k. 


TO    MONT    BLANC.  163 

An  ebon  mass  :    methinks  thou  piercest  it, 
As  with  a  wedge  !     But  when  I  look  again, 
It  is  thine  own  calm  home,  thy  crystal  shrine, 
Thy  habitation  from  eternity ! 

0  dread  and  silent  Mount,  I  gazed  upon  thee 
Till  thou,  still  present  to  the  bodily  sense, 

Didst  vanish  from  my  thought :   entranced  in  prayer, 

1  worshipped  the  Invisible  alone. 

Yet,  like  some  sweet  beguiling  melody. 
So  sweet  we  know  not  we  are  listening  to  it, 
Thou,  the  mean  while,  wast  blending  with  my  thought. 
Yea,  with  my  life  and  life's  own  secret  joy, 
Till  the  dilating  soul,  enrapt,  transfused, 
Into  the  mighty  vision  passing — there 
As  in  her  natural  form,  swelled  vast  to  Heaven ! 

Awake,  my  soul '    not  only  passive  praise 
Thou  owest !    not  alone  these  swelling  tears, 
Mute  thanks,  and  secret  ecstasy !     Awake, 
Voice  of  sweet  song !     Awake,  my  heart,  awake ! 
Green  vales  and  icy  cliffs,  all  join  my  hymn. 

Thou  first  and  chief,  sole  sovereign  of   the  Vale  ; 
Oh,   struggling  with  the  darkness  all  the  night,  • 
And  visited  all  night  by  troops  of   stars. 
Or  when  they  climb  the  sky  or  when  they  sink  ; 
Companion  of  the  morning  star  at  dawn. 
Thyself   Earth's  rosy  star,  and  of  the  dawn 
Coherald :    wake,  oh,  wake,  and  utter  praise  ! 
Who  sank  thy  sunless  pillars  deep  in  earth  ? 


10  i  S0NG8    OF    PRAISE. 

Who  filled  thy  countenance  with  rosy  light? 
Who  made  thee  parent  of   perpetual  streams? 

And  you,  ye  five  wild  torrents  fiercely  glad  ! 
Who  called  you  forth  from  night  and  utter  death. 
From  dark  and  icy  caverns  called  you  forth, 
Down  those  precipitous,  black,  jagged  rocks, 
Forever  shattered  and  the  same  forever? 
Who  gave  you  your  invulnerable  life, 
Your  strength,  your  speed,  your  fury,  and  your  joy, 
Unceasing  thunder  and  eternal  foam? 
And  who  commanded  (and  the  silence  came), 
Here  let  the  billows  stiffen  and  have  rest? 

Ye  ice-falls!    ye  that  from  the  mountain's  brow 
Adown  enormous  ravines  slope  amain — 
Torrents,  methinks,  that  heard  a  mighty  voice, 
And  stopped  at  once  amid  their  maddest  plunge  ! 
Motionless  torrents,  silent  cataracts, 
AVho  made  you  glorious  as  the  gates  of  Heaven 
Beneath  the  keen  full  moon  ?     Who  bade  the  sun 
Clothe  you  with  rainbows?     Who,  with  living  flowers 
Of  loveliest  blue,  spread  garlands  at  your  feet? — 
God !    let  the  torrents,  like  a  shout  of  nations. 
Answer !    and  let  the  ice-plains  echo,  God ! 
God  !    sing,  ye  meadow-streams,  with  gladsome  voice  ! 
Ye  pine-groves,  with  your  soft  and  soul-like  sounds  ! 
And  they  too  have  a  voice,  yon  piles  of   snow. 
And  in  their  perilous  fall  shall  thunder,   God  ! 

Ye  living  flowers  that  skirt  the  eternal  frost  I 
Ye  wild  goats  sporting  round  the  eagle's  nestl 


TO    MONT    BLANC.  165 

Ye  eagles,  playmates  of  the  mountain-storm  I 
Ye  lightnings,  the  dread  arrows  of  the  clouds ! 
Ye  signs  and  wonders  of  the  element ! 
Utter  forth  God,  and  fill  the  hills  with  praise ! 

Thou  too,  hoar  Mount,  with  thy  sky-pointing  peaks 
Oft  from  whose  feet  the  avalanche,  unheard, 
Shoots  downward,  glittering  through  the  pure  serene 
Into  the  depth  of   clouds,  that  veil  thy  breast, — 
Thou  too  again,  stupendous  Mountain,  thou 
That  as  I  raise  my  head,  a  while  bowed  low 
In  adoration,  upward  from  thy  base 
Slow  travelling  with  dim  eyes  suffused  with  tears, 
Solemnly  seemest,  like  a  vapory  cloud, 
To  rise  before  me — Rise,  oh,  ever  rise, 
Rise  like  a  cloud  of   incense,   from  the  earth  ! 
Thou  kingly  Spirit  throned  among  the  hills, 
Thou  dread,  ambassador  from  Earth  to  Heaven, 
Great  hierarch !    tell  thou  the  silent  sky, 
And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun, 
Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God. 

Coleridge. 


42 


166 


SONGS   OF   PEAISE. 


A  MIDNIGHT  HYMN. 


Where'er  I  am,  whate'er  I  see, 
Eternal  Lord,  is  full  of  Thee ! 
I  feel  Thee  in  the  gloom  of  night; 
I  see  Thee  in  the  morning  light. 


A   MIDNIGHT    HYMN.  157 

When  care  distracts  my  anxious  soul, 
Thy  grace  can  every  thought  control; 
Thy  word  can  still  the  troubled  heart, 
And  peace  and  confidence  impart. 

If  pam  invade  my  broken  rest, 

Or  if  corroding  griefs  molest, 

Soon  as  the  Comforter  appears, 

My  sighs  are  hushed,  and  dried  my  tears. 

Thy  wisdom  guides,  Thy  will  directs, 
Thy  arm  upholds,   Thy  power  protects; 
With  Thee    when  I  at  dawn  converse. 
The  shadows  sink,  the  clouds  disperse. 

Then,  as  the  sun  illumes  the  skies, 
Oh,  Sun  of  Righteousness,  arise  ! 
Dispel  the  fogs  of  mental  night. 
Being  of  Beings,  Light  of  Light. 

Hannah  More. 


168  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


1^   ^^t^  ^^-O^    <;2^^^<^ 


THE  TRAVELLER'S  EVENING  SONG. 

Fathee,  guide  me !    Day  declines,     • 
Hollow  winds  are  in  the  pines ; 
Darkly  waves  each  giant  bough 
O'er  the  sky's  last  crimson  glow ; 
Hushed  is  now  the  convent's  bell, 
Which  erewhile  with  breezy  swell 


THE    traveller's    EVENI^'G    SOifG.  169 

From  the  purple  mountains  bore 
Greetings  to  the  sunset-shore. 
Now  the  sailor's  vesper-hymn 

Dies  away. 
Father,  in  the  forest  dim, 

Be  my  Stay" ! 

In  the  low  and  shivering  thrill 
Of  the  leaves  that  late  hung  still ; 
In  the  dull  and  muffled  tone 
Of  the  sea-wave's  distant  moan  ; 
In  the  deep  tints  of  the  sky, 
There  are  signs  of   tempest  nigh. 
Ominous,  with  sullen  sound. 
Falls  the  closino-  dusk  around. 
Father,  through  the  storm  and  shade 

O'er  the  wild. 
Oh,  be  Thou  the  lone  one's  Aid, — 

Save  Thy  child ! 

Many  a  swift  and  sounding  plume 
Homewards,  through  the  boding  gloom, 
O'er  my  way  hath  flitted  fast 
Since  the  farewell  sunbeam  passed 
From  the  chestnut's  ruddy  bark, 
And  the  pools,   now  lone  and  dark, 
Where  the  wakening  night-winds  sigh 
Through  the  long  reeds  mournfully. 
Homeward,  homeward,  all  things  haste. 

God  of   might, 
Shield  the  homeless  midst  the  waste, — 

Be  his  Light ! 

43 


170  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

In  his  distant  cradle-nest, 
Now  my  babe  is  laid  to  rest ; 
Beautiful  his  slumber  seems 
With  a  glow  of  heavenly  dreams. 
Beautiful,  o'er  that  bright  sleep, 
Hang  soft  eyes  of  fondness  deep, 
Where  his  mother  bends  to  pray 
For  the  loved  and  far-away. 
Father,  guard  that  household  bower, 

Hear  that  prayer ! 
Back,  through  Thine  all-guiding  power, 

Lead  me  there  ! 

Darker,  wilder  .grows  the  night : 
Not  a  star  sends  quivering  light 
Through  the  massy  arch  of  shade 
By  the  stern  old  forest  made. 
Thou  to  whose  unslumbering  eyes 
All  my  pathway  open  lies, 
By  Thy  Son,  who  knew  distress 
In  the  lonely  wilderness. 
Where  no  roof   to  that  blest  head 

Shelter  gave, 
Father,  through  the  time  of  dread, 

Save,  oh,  save  ! 

Mbs.  Hemans. 


THE  ODOR.  171 


THE  ODOR. 

How  sweetly  doth  my  master  sound ;    my  master  ! 

As  ambergris  leaves  a  rich  scent 
Unto  the  taster : 

So  do  these  words  a  sweet  content, 
An  oriental  fragrancy :    my  master  ! 

With  these  all  day  I  do  perfume  my  mmd, 
My  mind  even  thrust  into  them  both : 

That  I  might  find 
What  cordials  make  this  curious  broth, 

This  broth  of   smells,  that  feeds  and  fats  my  mind. 

My  master,  shall  I  speak?     Oh.  that,  to  Thee, 

My  servant  were  a  little  so, 
As  flesh  may  be : 

That  these  two  words  might  creep  and  grow 
To  some  degree  of   spiciness  to  Thee  I 


172  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Then  should  the  Pomander,  which  was  before 
A  speaking  sweet,  mend  by  reflection, 

And  tell  me  more. 
For  pardon  of   my  imperfection 

Would  warm  and  work  it  sweeter  than  before. 

For  when  my  master  (which  alone  is  sweet, 
And  even  in  my  unworthiness  pleasing) 

Shall  call,  and  meet 
My  servant,  as  Thee  not  displeasing ; 

That  call  is  but  the  breathing  of  the  sweet. 

This  breathing  would  with  gains,  by  sweetening  me 
(As  sweet  things  traffic  when  they  meet), 

Return  to  Thee  ; 
And  so  this  new  commerce  and  sweet 

Should,  all  my  life,  employ  and  busy  me. 

Herbert. 


STERNE  RERUM   CONDITOR. 

Framer  of   the  earth  and  sky, 
Ruler  of  the  day  and  night, 

With  a  gkd  variety 

Tempering  all  and  making  light. 


STERNE    RERUM    CONDITOR.  173 

Gleams  upon  our  dark  path  flinging, 

Cutting  short  each  night  begun ; 
Now  Thy  herald  cock  is  singing 

To  our  chant,  and  calls  the  Sun. 

And  the  morning  star  replies, 

And  unlocks  the  imprisoned  day, 
And  the  ungodly  bandit  flies 

From  his  haunt  and  from  his  prey. 

Shrill  it  sounds,  the  storm  relenting 
Soothes  the  weary  seaman's  ears ; 

Once  it  wrought  a  great  repenting, 
When  the  Church's  rock  shed  tears. 

Rouse  we  ;    let  the  blithesome  cry 

Of  that  bird  our  hearts  awaken. 
Chide  the  slumberers  as  they  lie, 

And  convince  the  sin-o'ertaken. 

Hope  and  health  are  in  his  strain 

To  the  fearful  and  the  ailing ; 
Murder  sheathes  his  blade  profane, 

Faith  revives  where  faith  was  failins'. 


Jesu,  Master,  when  we  sin. 
Turn  on  us  Thy  healing  face ; 

It  will  melt  the  offence  within 
Into  penitential  grace. 

44 


174 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


Beam  on  our  bewildered  mind, 
Till  its  dreamy  shadows  flee ; 

Stones  cry  out  where  Thou  hast  shined, 
Jesu,  musical  with  Thee. 


LOVE    OF    JESUS.  175 


LOVE  OF  JESUS. 

I  LOVE  Thee,  0  most  gracious  Lord, 
Not  that  Thou  sav'st  me  by  Thy  word ; 
Nor  yet  because  Thy  wrath  shall  doom 
Those  loving  not  to  endless  gloom. 

Thou,   Thou,  my  Jesus,   full  of   grace. 
Didst  me  upon  the  cross  embrace  ; 
Didst  bear  the  nails,  the  bloody  spear, 
The  great  disgrace,  the  rabble's  jeer. 

Innumerable  griefs  were  Thine, 
Great  sweats,  and  anguish,  Lord  of  mine  ! 
The  pangs  of  death,  and  all  for  me, 
That  I,  poor  T\Tetch,  might  come  to  Thee  ! 

Then  why  not  love  with  all  my  heart? 
0  Jesus,  most  beloved  Thou  art ! 
Not  that  Thou  sav'st  my  soul  above, 
Nor  me  condemn'st,  do  Thee  I  love. 

Not  for  the  hope  of   sure  reward. 
But  for  Thy  love,   0  blessed  Lord! 
My  love  is  Thine,  and  e'er  shall  be, 
Because,  my  King,   Thou  reign'st  o'er  me  ! 

C.  C.  Cox. 


176  SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 


THE  TRAVELLER'S  RETURN. 

Joy  !    the  lost  one  is  restored ! 
Sunshine  comes  to  hearth  and  board 
From  the  far-off  countries  old 
Of  the  diamond  and  red  gold ; 
From  the  dusky  archer  bands, 
Roamers  of  the  fiery  sands ; 
From  the  desert  winds,  whose  breath 
Smites  with  sudden  silent  death ; 
He  hath  reached  his  home  again, 

Where  we  sing 
In  Thy  praise  a  fervent  strain, 

God  our  King ! 

Mightiest,  unto  Thee  he  turned 
When  the  noonday  fiercest  burned ; 
When  the  fountain  springs  were  far, 
And  the  sounds  of  Arab  war 
Swelled  upon  the  sultry  blast, 
And  the  sandy  columns  past, 
Unto  Thee  he  cried ;    and  Thou, 
Merciful,  didst  hear  his  vow ! 


THE  traveller's  RETURN.  177 

Therefore,  unto  Thee  again 

Joy  shall  sing 
Many  a  sweet  and  thankful  strain, 

God  our  King ' 


Thou  wert  with  him  on  the  main. 
And  the  snowy  mountain-chain, 
And  the  rivers  dark  and  wide, 
Which  through  Indian  forests  glide. 
Thou  didst  guard  him  from  the  wratt 
Of  the  lion  in  his  path, 
And  the  arrows  on  the  breeze, 
And  the  drooping  poison  trees ; 
Therefore,  from  the  household  train 

Oft  shall  spring 
Unto  Thee  a  blessing  strain, 

God  our  Kincf ! 


o 


Thou  to  his  lone  watching;  wife 


& 


Hast  brought  back  the  light  of  life  ; 
Thou  hast  spared  his  loving  child 
Home  to  greet  him  from  the  wild. 
Though  the  suns  of  eastern  skies 
On  his  cheek  have  set  their  dyes, 
Though  long  toils  and  sleepless  cares 
On  his  brow  have  blanched  the  hairs, 
Yet  the  night  of   fear  is  flown, 
He  is  living,  and  our  own ! 
Brethren,  spread  his  festal  board, 
Hang  his  mantle  on  his  sword. 
With  the  armor  on  the  wall, 
While  this  long,  long  silent  hall 

45 


178  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Joyfully  doth  hear  again 

Voice  and  string 
Swell  to  Thee  the  exulting  strain, 

God  our  King  I 

Mrs.  Hemans. 


DAILY   BREAD. 

Day  by  day  the  manna  fell ; 
Oh  to  learn  this  lesson  well ! 
Still  by  constant  mercy  fed, 
Give  us,  Lord,  our  daily  bread. 

"  Day  by  day"  the  promise  reads ; 
Daily  strength  for  daily  needs : 
Cast  foreboding  fears  away ; 
Take  the  manna  of  to-day. 

Lord,  our  times  are  in  Thy  hand  : 
All  our  sanguine  hopes  have  planned 
To  Thy  wisdom  we  resign. 
And  would  mould  our  wills  to  Thine. 

Thou  our  daily  task  shalt  give ; 
Day  by  day  to  Thee  we  live ; 
So  shall  added  years  fulfil 
Not  our  own,  our  Father's  will. 


DAILY    BREAD. 


Oh  to  live  exempt  from  care 
By  the  energy  of   prayer ; 
Strong  in  faith,  with  mind  subdued, 
Glowing  yet  with  gratitude  ! 


179 


180  80NGS    OF    PRAISE. 


Is^OTHINQ  FAIR  ON   EARTH  I  SEE. 

Nothing  fair  on  earth  I  see 
But  I  straightway  think  on  Thee ; 
Thou  art  fairest  in  my  eyes, 
Source  in  whom  all  beauty  lies  ! 

When  I  see  the  reddening  dawn 
And  the  golden  sun  of  morn, 
Quickly  turns  this  heart  of   mine 
To  Thy  glorious  form  divine. 

Oft  1  thmk  upon  Thy  light 
When  the  gray  morn  breaks  the  night ; 
Think,  what  glories  lie  in  Thee, 
Light  of  all  Eternity ! 

■  When  I  see  the  moon  arise 
'Mid  Heaven's  thousand  golden  eyes, 
Then  I  think,  more  glorious  far 
Is  the  Maker  of  yon  star. 

Or  T  think  in  spring's  sweet  hours, 
Wiion  the  fields  are  gay  with  flowers, 
As  tlieir  varied  hues  I  see, 
What  must  tlieir  Creator  be  ! 


NOTHING   FAIR   ON    EARTH    I   SEE.  181 

When  along  the  brook  I  wander, 

Or  beside  the  fountain  ponder, 

Straight  my  thoughts  take  wing  and  mount 

Up  to  Thee,  the  purest  Fount. 

Sweetly  sings  the  nightingale  ; 
Sweet  the  flute's  soft  plaintive  tale  ; 
Sweeter  than  their  richest  tone- 
Is  the  name  of   Mary's  Son.     ■ 

Sweetly  all  the  air  is  stirred 
When  the  Echo's  call  is  heard; 
But  no  sounds  my  heart  rejoice 
Like  to  my  Beloved's  voice. 

Come,  then,  fairest  Lord,  appear. 
Come,  let  me  behold  Thee  here  ; 
I  would  "see  Thee  face  to  face, 
On  Thy  proper  light  would  gaze. 

Take  away  these  veils  that  blind, 
Jesus,  all  my  soul  and  mind ; 
Henceforth  ever  let  my  heart 
See  Thee  truly  as  Thou  art! 

Angelus. 


46 


182 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


ONWARD. 


Come,  brethren,  let  us  go! 
The  evening  closeth  round, 
'Tis  perilous  to  linger  here 
On  this  wild  desert  ground. 
Take  courage  as  ye  wend 
On  towards  eternity; 

From  strength  to  strength  your  course  shall  be, 
And  good  at  last  your  end. 


ONWAED.  183 

We  shall  not  rue  our  choice, 
Though  strait  our  path  and  steep ; 
We  know  that  He  who  called  us  here 
His  word  shall  ever  keep. 
Then  follow,  trusting;    come, 

And  let  each  set  his  face 

Toward  yonder  fair  and  blessed  place, 
Intent  to  reach  our  home. 

The  body  and  the  house 

Deck  not,  but  deck  the  heart 
With  all  your  powers ;    we  are  but  guests, 

Ere  long  we  must  depart. 

Ease  brings  disease;   content 
Howe'er  his  lot  may  fall, 
A  pilgrim  bears  and  bows  to  all, 

For  soon  the  time  is  spent. 

Come,  children,  let  us  go ! 

Our  Father  is  our  guide  ; 
And  when  the  way  grows  steep  and  dark, 

He  journeys  at  our  side. 

Our  spirits  He  would  cheer; 
The  sunshine  of  His  love 
Revives  and  helps  us  as  we  rove; 

Ah,  blest  our  lot  e'en  here  ! 

Each  hasten  bravely  on ; 
Not  yet  our  goal  is  near ; 
Look  to  the  fiery  pillar  oft. 
That  tells  the  Lord  is  here. 


184  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Onward  your  glances  send, 
,  .Love  beckons  us,   nor  think 

That  they  who  following  chance  to  sink 
Shall  miss  their  journey's  end. 

Come,  children,  let  us  go ! 
We  travel  hand  in  hand  ; 
Each  in  his  brother  finds  his   joy 
In  this  wild  stranger  land. 
As  children  let  us  be, 

Nor  by  the  way  fall  out; 

The  angels  guard  us  round  about, 
And  help  us  brotherly. 

The  strong  be  quick  to  raise 

The  weaker  when  they  fall ; 
Let  love  and  peace  and  patience  bloon) 

In  ready  help  for  all. 

In  love  yet  closer  bound, 

Each  would  be  least,  yet  still 

On  love's  fair  path  most  pure  from  ill. 

Most  loving,  would  be  found. 

Come,  wander  on  with  joy. 

For  shorter  grows  the  way; 
Each  rising  sun  brings  on  the  time 

When  in  the  grave  we  lay 

The  body  down  ;    a  while 
Have  truth  and  courage  yet, 
Your  hopes  above  more  fully  set, 

Careless  of  things  more  vile. 


ONWARD.  18.; 

It  will  not  last  for  long; 
A  little  farther  roam ; 
It  will  not  last  much  longer  now 
Ere  we  shall  reach  our  home ; 
There  shall  we  ever  rest, 

There  with  our  Father  dwell, 

With  all  the  saints  who  served  Him  well, 
There  truly,  deeply  blest. 

For  this  all  things  we  dare, — 
'Tis  worth  the  risk,  I  trow, — 
Renouncing  all  that  clogs  our  course, 
Or  weighs  us  down  below. 
0  world,  thou  art  too  small; 
We  seek  another,  higher. 
Whither  Christ  guides  us  ever  nigher, 
Where  God  is  all  in  all. 

Friend  of  our  perfect  choice, 

Thou  Joy  of  all  that  live, 
Being  that  know'st  not  chance  or  change, 

What  courage  dost  Thou  give  ! 

All  beauty,  Lord,  we  see, 
All  bliss  and  life  and  love, 
In  Him  in  whom  we  live  and  move, 

And  we  are  glad  in  Thee  ! 

Teesteegen. 


47 


186 


SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


GREAT   FAITH. 


I  MAEKED  a  rainbow  in  the  north, 
What  time  the  wild  autumnal  sun 

From  his  dark  veil  at  noon  looked  forth, 
As  glorying  in  his  course  half  done, 

Flinging  soft  radiance  far  and  wide 
Over  the  dusky  heaven  and  bleak  hill-side. 

It  was  a  gleam  to  Memory  dear ; 
And  as  I  walk  and  muse  apart, 


GKEAT    FAITH.  187 

When  all  seems  faithless  round  and  drear, 

I  would  revive  it  in  my  heart, 
And  watch  how  light  can  find  its  way 
To  regions  farthest  from  the  fount  of  day. 

Light  flashes  in  the  gloomiest  sky, 

And  Music  in  the  dullest  plain, 
For  there  the  lark  is  soaring  high 

Over  her  flat  and  leafless  reign, 
And  chanting  in  so  blithe  a  tone, 
It  shames  the  weary  heart  to  feel  itself  alone. 

Brighter  than  rainbow  in  the  north, 

More  cheery  than  the  matin  lark. 
Is  the  soft  gleam  of   Christian  worth 

Which  on  some  holy  house  we  mark ; 
Dear  to  the  pastor's  aching  heart 
To  think,  where'er  he  looks,  such  gleam  may  have  a  part ; 

May  dwell,  unseen  by  all  but  Heaven, 

Like  diamond  blazing  in  the  mine  ; 
For  ever,  where  such  grace  is  given. 

It  fears  in  open  day  to  shine, 
Lest  the  deep  stain  it  owns  within 
Break  out,  and  Faith  be  shamed  by  the  believer's  sin. 

In  silence  and  afar  they  wait, 

To  find  a  prayer  their  Lord  may  hear  : 

Voice  of   the  poor  and  desolate, 

You  best  may  bring  it  to  His  ear. 

Your  grateful  intercessions  rise 
With  more  than  royal  pomp,  and  pierce  the  skies. 


188  SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 

Happy  tlie  soul  whose  precious  cause 
You  in  the  Sovereign  Presence  plead  : 

"This  is  the  lover  of  Thy  laws, 

The  friend  of  Thine  in  fear  and  need:" 

For  to  the  poor  Thy  mercy  lends 
That  solemn  style,  "Thy  nation  and  Thy  friends." 

He  too  is  blest  whose  outward  eye 

The  graceful  lines  of  art  may  trace, 
While  his  free  spirit,  soaring  high. 

Discerns  the  glorious  from  the  base ; 
Till  out  of  dust  his  magic  raise 
A  home  for  prayer  and  love,  and  full  harmonious  praise. 

Where,  far  away  and  high  above, 

In  maze  on  maze  the  tranced  sight 
Strays,  mindful  of  that  heavenly  love 

Which  knows  no  end  in  depth  or  height, 
While  the  strong  breath  of   Music  seems 
To  waft  us  ever  on,  soaring  in  blissful  dreams. 

What  though  in  poor  and  humble  guise 
Thou  here  didst  sojourn,   cottage-born  '^ 

Yet  from  Thy  glory  in  the  skies 

Our  earthly  gold  Thou  dost  not  scorn. 

For  Love  delights  to  bring  her  best, 
And  where  Love  is,   that  offering  evermore  is  blest. 

Love  on  a  Saviour's  dying  head 

Her  spikenard  drops  unblamed  may  pour, 

May  mount  His  cross,  and  wrap  Him  dead 
In  spices  from  the  golden  shore  ; 


CATECHISM.  1,S9 

Risen,   may  embalm  Hia  sacred  name 
With  all  a  rainters  art,  and  all  a  Minstrel's  flame. 

Worthless  and  lost  our  offerings  seem, 

Drops  in  the  ocean  of   His  praise  ; 
But  Mercy  with  her  genial  beam 

Is  ripening  them  to  pearly  blaze, 
To  sparkle  in  His  crown  above, 
Who  welcomes  here  a  child's  as  there  an  angel's  love. 

Keble. 


CATECHISM. 

Oh,  say  not,  dream  not,   heavenly  notes 

To  cliildish  ears  are  vain, 
That  the  young  mind  at  random  floats, 

And  cannot  reach  the  strain. 

Dim  or  unheard,  the  words  may  fall. 

And  vet  the  Heaven-taui>'ht  mind 
May  learn  the  sacred  air,  and  all 

The  harmony  unwind. 

Was  not  our  Lord  a  little  child, 
Taught  by  degrees  to  pray, 

48 


190 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


By  father  dear  and  mother  mild 
Instructed  day  by  day? 


And  loved  He  not  of   Heaven  to  talk 
With  children   in  His  sight, 


CATECHISM.  191 

To  meet  them  in  His  daily  walk, 
And  to  His  arms  invite  ? 

What  though  around  His  throne  of   fire 

The  everlasting  chant 
Be  wafted  from  the  seraph  choir 

In  glory  jubilant? 

Yet  stoops  He,  ever  pleased  to  mark 

Our  rude  essays  of   love, 
Famt  as  the  pipe  of   wakening  lark 

Heard  by  some  twilight  grove: 

Yet  is  He  near  us,   to  survey 

These  bright  and  ordered  files, 
Like  spring-flowers  in  their  best  array, 

All  silence  and  all  smiles. 

Save  that  each  little  voice  in  turn 

Some  glorious  truth  proclaims. 
What  sages  would  have  died  to  learn, 

jN^ow  taught  by  cottage  dames. 

And  if   some  tones  be  false  or  low. 

What  are  all  prayers  beneath, 
But  cries  of   babes,  that  cannot  know 

Half  the  deep  thought  they  breathe  ? 

In  His  own  words  we  Christ  adore, 
But  angels,  as  we  speak, 


192  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Higher  above  our  meaning  soar 
Tlian  we  o'er  children  weak : 

And  yet  His  word§.  mean  more  than  they, 
And  yet  He  owns  their  praise  : 

Why  should  we  think  He  turns  away 
From  infants'  simple  lays? 

Keble. 


MY  FATHER'S  AT   THE  HELM. 

'TwAS  when  the  sea's  tremendous  roar 

A  little  bark  assailed, 
And  pallid  fear,   with  awful  power, 

O'er  each  on  board  prevailed : 

Save  one,  the  captain's  darling  son, 
Who  fearless  viewed  the  storm. 

And  playful  with  composure  smiled 
At  danger's  threatening  form. 

"  Why  sporting  thus,"  a  seaman  cried, 
"  AVhilst  sorrows  overwhelm?" 

"  Wliy  yield  to  grief?"    the  boy  rcphed ; 
"My  father's  at  the  helm." 


ABIDP]    WITH    ME.  193 

Despairing  soul,  from  thence  be  taught 

How  groundless  is  thy  fear; 
Think  on  what  wonders  Christ  has  wrought. 

And  He  is  always  near. 

Safe  in  His  hands,  whom  seas  obey, 

When  swelling  billows  rise, 
Who  turns  the  darkest  night  to  day, 

And  brightens  lowering  skies : 

Though  thy  corruptions  rise  abhorred, 

And  outward  foes  increase, 
^'Tis  but  for  Him  to  speak  the  word, 
And  all  is  hushed  to  peace. 

Then  upward  look,  howe'er  distressed ; 

Jesus  will  guide  thee  home, 
To  that  blest  port  of  endless  rest. 

Where  storms  shall  never  come. 


ABIDE  WITH  ME. 


Abide  with  me.     Fast  falls  the  eventide; 
The  darkness  thickens :    Lord,  with  me  abide 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  oh,  abide  .with  me ! 


49 


194 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


Swift  to  its  close  ebbs  out  life's  little  day ; 
Earth's  joys  grow  dim,  its  glories  pass  away 
Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see  ; 
0  Thou  who  changest  not,  abide  with  me 


Not  a  brief  glance  I  beg,  a  passing  word, 
But  as  Thou  dwell'st  with  Thy  disciples,  Lord,- 


ABIDE    WITH    ME.  195 

Familiar,  condescending,  patient,  free, 
Come  not  to  sojourn,  but  abide  with  me. 

Come  not  in  terrors,  as  the  King  of  kings, 
But  kind  and  good,  with  heaUng  in  Thy  wings ; 
Tears  for  all  woes,  a  heart  for  every  plea ; 
Come.  Friend  of  sinners,  thus  abide  with  me! 

Thou  on  my  head  in  early  youth  didst  smile, 
And,  though  rebellious  and  perverse  meanwhile. 
Thou  hast  not  left  me,  oft  as  I  left  Thee ; 
On  to  the  close,  0  Lord,  abide  with  me. 

• 

I  need  Thy  presence  every  passing  hour : 
What  but  Thy  grace  can  foil  the  tempter's  power? 
Who  like  Thyself  my  Guide  and  Stay  can  be? 
Through  cloud  and  sunshine,  oh,  abide  with  me  ! 

I  fear  no  foe,  with  Thee  at  hand  to  bless : 
Ills  have  no  weight,  and  tears  no  bitterness: 
Where  is  Death's  sting?   where,  Grave,  thy  victory? 
I  triumph  still,  if  Thou  abide  with  me  ! 

Hold  Thou  Thy  cross  before  my  closing  eyes. 
Shine  through  the  gloom,  and  point  me  to  the  skies : 
Heaven's  morning  breaks,  and  earth's  vain  shadows  flee: 
In  life,  in  death,  0  Lord,  abide  with  me. 


Lyte. 


196 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


CUR  MUNDUS  MILITAT? 


Why  battles  all  the  world 
For  its  vain  glory, 

Whose  bravest  happiness 
Is  transitory  ? 


CUR    MUNDUS    MILITAT?  197 

So  soon  its  brittle  poWer 

A  light  touch  shaketh, 
Even  as  a  vase  of  clay 

In  pieces  breaketh. 

Write  words  upon  the  ice, 

And  trust  their  staying, 
Sooner  than  idle  cheats 

Of  earth  decaying. 

Flattered  with  baubles  gay, 

In  Truth's  mask  hiding, 
Thy  life's  a  little  day 

Of   false  confidino;. 


"&• 


Better  to  plant  thy  trust 
In  wise  men's  teaching, 

Than  for  the  wretched  gauds 
Of  Fortune  reaching. 

False  are  its  very  dreams, 
And  false  its  pleasing, 

Its  labors  and  its  lusts 
A  hollow  leasing. 

Say,  where  is  Solomon, 
Of   wisdom  vaunted, 

Or  stoutest  Samson  now, 
The  chief  undaunted? 

Say,  where  is  Absalom, 
Of  beauty  royal, 

60 


198  SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 

And  Jonathan,  the  heart 
To  friendship  loyal? 

Where  hath  the  Csesar  left 
His  empire  splendid? 

Where  Dives'  banqueting 
In  sorrow  ended? 

Say,  where  is  Tully's  voice, 
In  senates  burning? 

And  the  wise  Stagyrite, 
Master  of  learning? 

Such  leaders  of  renown; 

Such  bygone  spaces ; 
Such  stately  brows  of  old, 

Such  kingly  races ; 

Such  potentates  of  earth, 
The  boast  of   story  : — 

One  flashing  of  an  eye, 
And  gone  their  glory  1 

^  How  brief  a  holy  day 

Man's  pomp  abideth, 
And  all  his  pleasure  gay 
A  shadow  glideth ! 

Feast  of  the  crawling  worm 
Dust  to  dust  crumbled ! 

Drop  of  the  morning  dew ! 
Be  thy  pride  humbled. 


CUR   MUNDUS   MILITAT?  199 

Even  to-morrow  lies 

Veiled  from  thy  blindness ; 
Crowd  thou  to-day  with  deeds 

Of  loving-kindness. 

This  glory  of   the  flesh, 

Which-  man  paradeth, 
The  Holy  Book  doth  call 

A  flower  that  fadeth.  ^ 

Even  as  the  shrivelled  leaf 

On  the  wind  sweeping, 
So  drops  the  life  of  man. 

To  darkness  creeping. 

Call  not  thine  own  whate'er 

A  moment  liveth ; 
The  world  shall  snatch  again 

All  that  it  giveth. 

Ponder  the  things  above  ! 

There  thy  heart's  treasure  ! 
Happy,  who  knows  to  scorn 

The  low  world's  pleasure  ! 

Washburn. 


200 


SONGS   OF   PRAISE. 


BITTER  REPENTANCE. 


"And  is  there  in  God's  world  so  drear  a  place 
Where  the  loud  bitter  cry  is  raised  in  vain? 


BITTER    REPENTANCE.  201 

Where  tears  of  penance  come  too  late  for  grace, 
As  on  the  uprooted  flower  the  genial  rain? 

'Tis  even  so  :    the  sovereign  Lord  of  souls 

Stores  in  the  dungeon  of  His  boundless  realm 

Each  bolt,  that  o'er  the  sinner  vainly  rolls, 
With  gathered  wrath  the  reprobate  to  whelm. 

Will  the  storm  hear  the  sailor's  piteous  cry, 
Taught  to  mistrust,  too  late,  the  tempting  wave 

When  all  aromid  he  sees  but  sea  and  sky, 
A  God  in  anger,  a  self-chosen  grave  ? 

Or  will  the  thorns  that  strew  intemperance'  bed 
Turn  with  a  wish  to  down?    will  late  remorse 

Recall  the  shaft  the  murderer's  hand  has  sped, 
Or  from  the  guiltless  bosom  turn  its  course  ? 

Then  may  the  unbodied  soul  in  safety  fleet 
Through  the  dark  curtains  of  the  world  above, 

Fresh  from  the  stain  of   crime,  nor  fear  to  meet 
The  God  whom  here  she  would  not  learn  to  love  : 

Then  is  there  hope  for  such  as  die  unblest. 

That  angel  wings  may  waft  them  to  the  shore  ; 

Nor  need  the  unready  virgin  strike  her  breast. 
Nor  wait  desponding  round  the  bridegroom's  door. 

But  where  is  then  the  stay  of  contrite  hearts? 
Of  old  they  leaned  on  Thy  eternal  word, 

51 


202  Bo:sGS  OF  praise. 

But  with  the  sinner's  fear  their  hope  departs, 

Fast  hnked  as  Thy  great  Name  to  Thee,  0  Lord. 

That  Name,  by  which  Thy  faithful  oath  is  past, 
That  we  should  endless  be,   for  joy  or  woe  : — 

And  if  the  treasures  of  Thy  wrath  could  waste, 
Thy  lovers  must  their  promised  Heaven  forego. 

But  ask  of   elder  davs,   earth's  vernal  hour. 
When  in  familiar  talk  God's  voice  was  heard. 

When  at  the  Patriarch's  call   the  fiery  shower 
Propitious  o'er  the-  turf-built  shrine  appeared. 

Watch  by  our  father  Isaac's  pastoral  door, — 
The  birthright  sold,  the  blessing  lost  and  won, 

Tell,  Heaven  has  wrath  that  can  relent  no  more, 
The  Grave,  dark  deeds  that  cannot  be  undone. 

We  barter  life  for  pottage  ;    sell  true  bliss 

For  wealth  or  power,   for  pleasure  or  renown  ; 

Thus,  Esau-like,  our  Father's  blessing  miss, 

Then  wash  with  fruitless  tears  our  faded  crown. 

Our  faded  crown,  despised  and  flung  aside, 

Shall  on  some  brother's  brow  immortal  bloom ; 

No  partial  hand  the  blessing  may  misguide. 

No  flattering  fancy  change  our  Monarch's  doom: 

His  righteous  doom,  that  meek  true-hearted  Love 
The  everlasting  birthright  should  receive, 


A    TRUE    HYMX.  ZUo 

The  softest  dews  drop  on  her  from  above, 

The  richest  green  her  mountain  garland  weave : 

Her  brethren,  mightiest,  wisest,  eldest-born, 
Bow  to  her  sway,  and  move  at  her  behest : 

Isaac's  fond  blessing  may  not  fall  on  scorn, 

Xor  Balaam's  curse  on  Love,  which  God  hath  blest. 

Keble. 


A  TRUE  HYMN. 

My  Joy,  my  Life,  my  Crown ! 
My  heart  was  meaning  all  the  day, 
Somewhat  it  fain  would  say ; 
And  still  it  runneth,  muttering  up  and  down. 
With  only  this.  My  Joy,   my  Life,  my  Crown 

Yet  slight  not  these  few  words  ; 
If   truly  said,  they  may  take  part 

Among  the  best  in  art. 
The  fineness,   which  a  hymn  or  psalm  affords. 
Is,  when  the  soul  unto  the  lines  accords. 

He,  who  craves  all  the  mind. 
And  all  the  soul,  and  strength,  and  tirne, 
If   the  words  only  rhyme, 


204  SOXGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Justly  complains  that  somewhat  is  behind 
To  make  his  verse,  or  write  a  hymn  in  kind. 


Whereas,  if  the  heart  be  moved, 
Although  the  verse  be  somewhat  scant, 

God  doth  supply  the  want. 
As  when  the  heart  says,   sighing  to  be  approved, 
"Oh,  could  I  love!"    and  stops:    God  writeth,  Loved. 

Herbert. 


LOVE  OF   GOD. 

I  LOVE  Thee,  0  Thou  God  of  mine, 
Because  Thou  first  hast  love'd  me : 

And  all  my  liberty  resign 

That  T  may  willing  follow  Thee. 

Nothing  that  memory  can  suggest, 
But  doth  with  Thy  effulgence  blend 

The  mind's  extremest  range,  at  best, 
Thy  greatness  fails  to  comprehend. 


WHAT    WEIS^T    YE    OUT    TO    SEE  ^  205 

Nothing,  0  Lord,  will  I  desire 
Not  sanctioned  by  Thy  holy  will ; 

All  things  are  Thine  that  I  acquire, 
All  T  bestow,   Thy  bounty  still. 

Take  from  me  all  Thy  gifts  reveal ; 

Resume  whatever  pleaseth  Thee ; 
Direct  me  as  Thou  wilt,  I  feel 

In  every  act  Thou  lovest  me. 

Oh,  grant  me  but  Thy  love  divine, 
My  love  for  Thee  will  reign  supreme  ; 

Grant  this,  and  all  things  else  are  mine, 
Without  it  life  is  but  a  dream. 

C.  C.  Cox. 


WHAT  WENT  YE  OUT  TO  SEE? 

What  went  ye  out  to  see 

O'er  the  rude  sandy  lea, 
Where  stately  Jordan  flows  by  many  a  palm. 

Or  where  Gennesaret's  wave 

Delights  the  flowers  to  lave 
That  o'er  her  western  slope  breathe  airs  of  balm? 


206  SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 

All  through  the  summer  night, 

Those  blossoms  red  and  bright 
Spread  their  soft  breasts,  unheeding,  to  the  breeze, 

Like  hermits  watching  still 

Around  the  sacred  hill, 
"Where  erst  our  Saviour  watched  upon  His  knees. 

The  Paschal  moon  above 

Seems  like  a  saint  to  rove, 
Left  shining  in  the  world  with  Christ  alone  ; 

Below,  the  lake's  still  face 

Sleeps  sweetly  in  the  embrace 
Of  mountains  terraced  high  with  mossy  stone. 

Here  may  we  sit,  and  dream 

Over  the  heavenly  theme, 
Till  to  our  soul  the  former  days  return ; 

Till  on  the  grassy  bed,  * 

Where  thousands  once  He  fed. 
The  world's  incarnate  Maker  we  discern. 

Oh,  cross  no  more  the  main, 

Wandering  so  wild  and  vain. 
To  count  the  reeds  that  tremble  in  the  wind, 

On  listless  dalliance  bound. 

Like  children  gazing  round. 
Who  on  God's  works  no  seal  of  Godhead  find : 

Bask  not  in  courtly  bower. 
Or  sun-bright  hall  of  power; 
Pass  Babel  quick,  and  seek  the  holy  land ; 


WHAT    WENT    YE    OUT    TO    SEE? 


207 


From  robes  of   Tyrian  d3'e 
Turn  witli  undazzled  eye 


To  Bethlehem's  glade,  or  Carmel's  haunted  strand. 


Or  choose  thee  out  a  cell 

In  Kedron's  storied  dell, 
Beside  the  springs  of   Love,   that  never  die  ; 

Among  the  olives  kneel 

The  chill  nio;ht-blast  to  feel, 
And  watch  the  Moon  that  saw  thy  Master's  agony 


208  SONGS   OF    PEAISE. 

Then  rise  at  dawn  of  day 

And  wnid  thy  thoughtful  way 
Where  rested  once  the  Temple's  stately  shade, 

With  due  feet  tracing  round 

The  city's  northern  bound, 
To  th'  other  holy  garden,  where  the  Lord  was  laid. 

Who  thus  alternate  see 

His  death  and  victory, 
Rising  and  falling  as  on  angel  wings, 

They,  while  they  seem  to  roam, 

Draw  daily  nearer  home, 
Their  heart  untravelled  still  adores  the  King  of  kings. 

Or,  if  at  home  they  stay, 

Yet  are  they,  day  by  day, 
In  spirit  journeying  through  the  glorious  land, 

Not  for  Hght  Fancy's  reed, 

Nor  Honor's  purple  meed. 
Nor  gifted  Prophet's  lore,  nor  Science"  wondrous  wand. 

But  more  than  Prophet,  more 

Than  Angels  can  adore 
With  face  unveiled,  is  He  they  go  to  seek : 

Blessed  be  God,  Whose  grace 

Shows  Him  in  every  place 
To  homeliest  hearts  of  pilgrims  pure  and  meek ! 

Keble. 


DOVE,    LEAF,    AND    BOW.  209 


DOVE,   LEAF,   AKD   BOW. 

Sweet  Dove  !    the  softest,  steadiest  plume 

In  all  the  sunbright  sky, 
Brightening  in  ever-changeful  bloom 

As  breezes  change  on  high  ; — 

Sweet  Leaf!    the  pledge  of   peace  and  mirth, 
"  Long  sought,  and  lately  won," 

Blest  increase  of  reviving  Earth, 
When  first  it  felt  the  Sun  ; — 

Sweet  Rainbow  !    pride  of  summer  days, 
High  set  at  Heaven's  command. 

Though  into  drear  and  dusky  haze 
Thou  melt  on  either  hand ; — 

Dear  tokens  of   a  pardoning  God, 

We  hail  ye,  one  and  all, 
As  when  our  fathers  walked  abroad, 

Freed  from  their  twelvemonth's  thrall. 

How  joyful  from  the  imprisoning  ark 
On  the  green  earth  they  spring  I 

53 


210  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Not  blither,  after  showers,  the  Lark 
Mounts  up  with  gHstening  wing. 

So  home-bound  sailors  spring  to  shore, 

Two  oceans  safely  past ; 
So  happy  souls,  when  life  is  o'er, 

Plunge  in  the  empyreal  vast. 

What  wins  their  first  and  fondest  gaze 

In  all  the  blissful  field. 
And  keeps  it  through  a  thousand  days  ? 

Love  face  to  face  revealed : 

Love  imaged  in  that  cordial  look 

Our  Lord  in  Eden  bends 
On  souls  that  sin  and  earth  forsook 

Li  time  to  die -His  friends. 

And  what  most  welcome  and  serene 
Dawns  on  the  Patriarch's  eye, 

In  all  the  emerging  hills  so  green, 
In  all  the  brightening  sky  ? 

What  but  the  gentle  rainbow's  gleam, 
Soothing  the  wearied  sight, 

That  cannot  bear  the  solar  beam, 
With  soft  undazzlino;  li2;ht? 

Lord,  if  our  fathers  turned  to  Thee 
With  such  adoring  gaze, 


DOVE,    LEAF,    AXD    BOW.  211 

Wondering  frail  man  Thy  light  should  see 
Without  Thy  scorching  blaze; 

Where  is  our  love,  and  where  our  hearts. 

We  who  have  seen  Thy  Son, 
Have  tried  Thy  Spirit's  winning  arts, 

And  yet  we  are  not  won  ? 

The  Son  of  God  m  radiance  beamed 

Too  bright  for  us  to  scan; 
But  we  may  face  the  rays  that  streamed 

From  the  mild  Son  of  Man. 

There,  parted  into  rainbow  hues, 

In  sweet  harmonious  strife. 
We  see  celestial  love  dijSfuse 

Its  light  o'er  Jesus'  life. 

God,  by  His  bow,  vouchsafes  to  write 

This  truth  in  Heaven  above; 
As  every  lovely  hue  is  Light, 

So  every  grace  is  Love. 

Keble. 


21! 


SO^TGrS    OF    PRAISE. 


MISSIONARY  HYMN. 


From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 

From  India's  coral  strand, 
Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 

Roll  down  their  golden  sand, 
From  many  an  ancient  river, 

From  many  a  palmy  plain, 
They  call  us  to  deliver 

Their  land  from  error's  chain. 


MISSIOXAEY    HYMN. 

What  though  the  spicy  breezes 

Blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  isle, 
Though  every  prospect  pleases, 

And  only  man  is  vile : 
In  vain  with  lavish  kindness 

The  gifts  of  God  are  strown; 
The  heathen  in  his  blindness 

Bows  down  to  wood  and  stone. 

Can  we,  whose  souls  are  lighted 

With  wisdom  from  on  high, 
Can  we  to  men  benighted 

The  lamp  of  life  deny? 
Salvation,  oh,  salvation, 

The  joyful  sound  proclaim, 
Till  each  remotest  nation 

Has  learned  Messiah's  name. 

Waft,  waft,  ye  winds.  His  story, 

And  you,  ye  waters,  roll. 
Till  like  a  sea  of  glory 

It  spreads  from  pole  to  pole  1 
Till  o'er  our  ransomed  nature, 

The  Lamb  for  sinners  slain, 
Redeemer,  King,  Creator, 

In  bliss  returns  to  reign ! 

Heeer. 


54 


214  SONGS   OF   PRAISE. 


EASTER  EVEN. 

Rest  of  the  weary !     Thou 

Thyself  art  resting  now, 
Where  lowly  in  Thy  sepulchre  Thou  liest ; 

From  out  her  deathly  sleep 

My  soul  doth  start,  to  weep 
So  sad  a  wonder,  that  Thou,  Saviour,  diest ! 

Thy  bitter  anguish  o'er, 

To  this  dark  tomb  they  bore 
Thee,  Life  of  life — Thee,  Lord  of  all  creation ! 

The  hollow  rocky  cave 

Must  serve  Thee  for  a  grave, 
Who  wast  Thyself  the  Rock  of  our  salvation. 

0  Prince  of  Life !    I  know 

That  when  I  too  lie  low, 
Thou  wilt  at  last  my  soul  from  death  awaken : 

Wherefore  I  will  not  shrink 

From  the  grave's  awful  brink ; 
The  heart  that  trusts  in  Thee  shall  ne'er  be  shaken. 

To  me  the  darksome  tomb 
Is  but  a  narrow  room, 
Where  I  may  rest  in  peace,  from  sorrow  free. 


ADVENT    SUNDAY.  215 

Thy  death  shall  give  me  power 
To  cry,  in  that  dark  hour, 
0  Death,  0  Grave,  where  is  your  victory? 

The  grave  can  naught  destroy, 

Only  the  flesh  can  die, 
And  e'en  the  body  triumphs  o'er  decay  : 

Clothed  by  Thy  wondrous  might 

In  robes  of   dazzling  light. 
This  flesh  shall  burst  the  grave  at  that  last  day. 

My  Jesus,  day  by  day, 

Help  me  to  watch  and  pray 
Beside  the  tomb  where  in  my  heart  Thou'rt  laid. 

Thy  bitter  death  shall  be 

My  constant  memory, 
My  guide  at  last  into  Death's  awful  shade. 

Feanck. 


ADVENT  SUNDAY. 


Awake  !    again  the  Gospel  trump  is  blown  ! 

From  year  to  year  it  swells  with  louder  tone ; 

From  year  to  year  the  signs  of  wrath 

Are  gathering  round  the  Judge's  path, 
Strange  words  fulfilled,  and  mighty  works  achieved. 
And  truth  in  all  the  world  both  hated  and  believed. 


216  SOIS'GS    OF    PEAISE. 

Awake !    wliy  linger  in  the  gorgeous  town, 

Sworn . liegemen  of  the  Cross  and  thorny  crown? 

Up  from  your  beds  of  sloth,  for  shame. 

Speed  to  the  eastern  mount  like  flame, 
Nor  wonder  should  ye  find  your  King  in  tears, 
Even  with  the  loud  Hosanna  ringing  in  His  ears. 

Alas !    no  need  to  rouse  them :    long  ago 
They  are  gone  forth  to  swell  Messiah's  show  : 
With  glittering  robes  and  garlands  sweet 
They  strew  the  ground  beneath  His  feet : 
All  but  your  hearts  are  there — 0  doomed  to  prove 
The  arrows  winged  in  Heaven  for  Faith  that  will  not  love. 


Meanwhile  He  paces  through  the  adoring  crowd, 

Calm  as  the  march  of  some  majestic  cloud, 

That  o'er  wild  scenes  of  ocean-war 

Holds  its  still  course  in  heaven  afar : 
Even  so,  heart-searching  Lord,  as  years  roll  on, 
Thou  keepest  silent  watch  from  Thy  triumphal  throne : 

Even  so,  the  world  is  thronging  round  to  gaze 

On  the  dread  vision  of  the  latter  days. 

Constrained  to  own  Thee,  but  in  heart 

Prepared  to  take  Barabbas'  part: 
"Hosanna"  now,  to-morrow  "Crucify," 
The  changeful  burden  still  of  their  rude  lawless  cry. 

Yet  in  that  throng  of   selfish  hearts  untrue 
Thy  sad  eye  rests  upon  Thy  faithful  few; 


ADVENT   SUXDAY. 


217 


Children  and  childlike  souls  arc  there, 

Blind  Bartimeus'  humble  prayer, 
And  Lazarus  wakened  from  his  four  days'  sleep, 
Enduring  life  again,  that  Passover  to  keep. 


And  fast  beside  the  olive-bordered  way 

Stands  the  blest  home,  where  Jesus  deigned  to  stay; 

The  peaceful  home,  to  Zeal  sincere 

And  heavenly  Contemplation  dear. 


218  SO^'GS    OF    PRAISE. 

Where  Martha  loved  to  wait  with  reverence  meet, 
And  wiser  Mary  Hngered  at  Thy  sacred  feet. 

Still  through  decaying  -ages  as  they  glide, 

Thou  lov'st  Thy  chosen  remnant  to  divide ; 

Sprinkled  along  the  waste  of  years 

Full  many  a  soft  green  isle  appears : 
Pause  where  we  may  upon  the  desert  road, 
Some  shelter  is  in  sight,  some  sacred  safe  abode. 

When  withering  blasts  of  error  swept  the  sky, 

And  Love's  last  flower  seemed  fain  to  droop  and  die, 

How  sweet,  how  lone  the  ray  benign 

On  sheltered  nooks  of   Palestine  ! 
Then  to  his  early  home  did  Love  repair, 
And  cheered  his  sickening  heart  with  his  own  native  air. 

Years  roll  away:    again  the  tide  of  .crime 

Has  swept  Thy  footsteps  from  the  favored  clime. 

Where  shall  the  holy  Cross  find  rest? 

On  a  crowned  monarch's  mailed  breast : 
Like  some  bright  angel  o'er  the  darkling  scene, 
Through  court  and  camp  he  holds  his  heavenward  course 
serene. 

•  A  fouler  vision  yet ;    an  age  of  light, 
Light  without  love,  glares  on  the  aching  sight ; 
Oh,  who  can  tell  how  calm  and  sweet, 
Meek  Walton,  shows  thy  green  retreat. 
When,  wearied  with  the  tale  thy  times  disclose, 
The  eye  first  finds  thee  out  in  thy  secure  repose  ? 


THE    PURinCATIOX.  219 

Thus  bad  and  good  their  several  -warnings  give 

Of  His  approach,  whom  none  may  see  and  Hve  ; 

Faith's  ear,  with  awful  still  delight, 

Counts  them  like  minute-bells  at  nis-ht, 
Keeping  the  heart  awake  till  dawn  of  morn, 
While  to  her  funeral  pile  this  aged  world  is  borne. 

But  what  are  Heaven's  alarms  to  hearts  that  cower 

In  wilful  slumber,  deepening  every  hour, 

That  draw  their  curtains  closer  round 

The  nearer  swells  the  trumpet's  sound  ? 
Lord,  ere  our  trembling  lamps  sink  down  and  die, 
Touch  us  with  chastening  hand,  and  make  us  feel  Thee  nigh. 

Keble. 


THE  PURIFICATION. 

Blest  are  the  pure  in  heart, 
For  they  shall  see  our  God, 
The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  .theirs, 
Their  soul  is  Christ's  abode. 

Might  mortal  thought  presume 
To  guess  an  angel's  lay. 
Such  are  the  notes  that  echo  through 
The  courts  of  Heaven  to-day. 


220  SO^sGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Sucli  the  triumphal  hymns 
On  Sion's  Prince  that  wait; 
In  high  procession  passing  on 
Towards  His  temple-gate. 

Give  ear,  ye  kings  :  bow  down, 
Ye  rulers  of  the  earth: 
This,  this  is  He  ;    your  Priest  by  grace, 
Your  God  and  King  by  birth. 

No  pomp  of   earthly  guards 
Attends  with  sword  and  spear, 
And  all-defying,  dauntless  look, 

Their  monarch's  way  to  clear ; 

Yet  are  there  more  with  Him 

Than  all  that  are  with  you,' — ■ 

The  armies  of  the  highest  Heaven, 

All  righteous,  good,  and  true. 

Spotless  their  robes  and  pure, 
Dipped  in  the  sea  of  light 
That  hides  the  unapproached  shrine 
From  men's  and  angels'  sight. 

His  throne  thy  bosom  blest, 
0  Mother  unde  filed  : 
That  throne,  if  aught  beneath  the  skies, 
Beseems  the  sinless  child. 


THE    PURIFICATION.  221 

Lost  in  liigh  thoughts,   "whose  son 
The  wondrous  Babe  might  prove," 
•Her  guileless  husband  walks  beside, 
Bearing  the  hallowed  dove; 

Meet  emblem  of  His  vow 
Who  on  this  happy  day 
His  dove-like  soul — best  sacrifice — 
Did  on  God's  altar  lay. 

But  who  is  he,  by  years 
Bowed,  but  erect  in  heart, 
Whose  prayers  are  struggling  with  his  tears? 
"Lord,  let  me  now  depart. 

"Now  hath  Thy  servant  seen 
Thy  saving  health,   0  Lord  : 
'Tis  time  that  I  depart  in  peace, 
According  to  Thy  word." 

Yet  swells  the  pomp  :    one  more 
Comes  forth  to  bless  her  God  : 
Full  fourscore  years,  meek  widow,  she 
Her  heavenward  way  hath  trod. 

She  who  to  earthly  joys 
So  long  had  given  farewell 
Now  sees,  unlooked  for.  Heaven  on  earth, 
Christ  in  His  Israel. 

66 


222  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Wide  open  from  that  hour 
The  temple-gates  are  set, 
And  still  the  saints  rejoicing  there 
The  holy  Child  have  met. 

Now  count  His  train  to-day, 
And  who  may  meet  Him,  learn : 
Him  childlike  sires,  meek  maidens,  find. 
Where  pride  can  naught  discern. 

Still  to  the  lowly  soul 
He  doth  Himself  impart, 
And  for  His  cradle  and  His  throne 
Chooseth  the  pure  in  heart. 

Keble. 


WORK. 

What  are  we  set  on  earth  for?     Say,  to  toil, 
Nor  seek  to  leave  thy  tending  of  the  vines. 
For  all  the  heat  o'  the  day,  till  it  declines, 
And  Death's  wild  curfew  shall  from  work  assoil. 
God  did  anoint  thee  with  his  odorous  oil. 
To  wrestle,  not  to  reign ;    and  He  assigns 
All  thy  tears  over,  like  pure  crystallines, 
For  younger  fellow-workers  of  the  soil 


WORK. 


223 


To  wear  for  amulets.     So  others  shall 

Take  patience,  labor,  to  their  heart  and  hand. 

From  thy  heart,  and  thy  hand,  and  thy  brave  cheer. 

And  God's  grace  fructify  through  thee  to  all. 

The  least  flower  with  a  brimming  cup  may  stand 

And  share  its  dew-drop  with  another  near. 

Mrs.  BRowxi2fG. 


•^-"^^ 


224  SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 


THE  STAR  AND  THE  SCEPTRE. 

Oh  for  a  sculptor's  hand, 

That  thou  mightst  take  thy  stand, 
Thy  wild  hair  floating  on  the  eastern  breeze, 

Thy  tranced  yet  open  gaze 

Fixed  on  the  desert  haze, 
As  one  who  deep  in  heaven  some  airy  pageant  sees. 

In  outline  dim  and  vast 

Their  fearful  shadows  cast 
The  giant  forms  of  empires  on  their  way 

To  ruin :    one  by  one 

They  tower  and  they  are  gone  ; 
Yet  in  the  Prophet's  soul  the  dreams  of  avarice  stay. 

•       No  sun  or  star  so  bright 

In  all  the  world  of  light 
That  they  should  draw  to  Heaven  his  downward  eye : 

He  hears  the  Almighty's  word. 

He  sees  the  Angel's  sword. 
Yet  low  upon  the  earth  his  heart  and  treasure  lie. 

Lo,  from  yon  argent  field, 
To  him  and  us  revealed, 
One  gentle  Star  glides  down,  on  earth  to  dwell. 


THE    STAR    AND    THE    SCEPTEE.  225 

Chained  as  they  are  below, 
Our  eyes  may  see  it  glow, 
And  as  it  mounts  again,  may  track  its  brightness  well. 

To  him  it  glared  afar, 

A  token  of  wild  war. 
The  banner  of  his  Lord  s  victorious  wrath : 

But  close  to  us  it  gleams, 

Its  soothing  lustre  streams 
Around  our  home's  green  walls,  and  on  our  churchway  path. 

We  in  the  tents  abide 

Which  he  at  distance  eyed 
Like  goodly  cedars  by  the  waters  spread, 

While  seven  red  altar-fires 

Rose  up  in  wavy  spires, 
Where    on  the  mount  he  watched  his  sorceries  dark  and 
dread. 

He  watched  till  morning's  ray 

On  lake  and  meadow  lay, 
And  willow-shaded  streams,  that  silent  sweep 

Around  the  bannered  lines. 

Where  by  their  several  signs 
The  desert-wearied  tribes  in  sight  of   Canaan  sleep. 

He  watched  till  knowledge  came 

Upon  his  soul  like  flame, 
Not  of   those  magic  fires  at  random  caught ; 

But  true  Prophetic  light 

Flashed  o'er  him,   high  and  bright, 
Flashed  once,  and  died  aw^ay,  and  left  his  darkened  thought. 

57 


226  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

And  can  he  choose  but  fear 

Who  feels  his  God  so  near 
That,  when  he  fain  would  curse,  his  powerless  tongue 

In  blessing  only  moves? 

Alas !    the  world  he  loves 
Too  close  around  his  heart  her  tangling  veil  hath  flung. 

Sceptre  and  Star  divine, 

Who  in  Thine  inmost  shrine 
Hast  made  us  worshippers,   oh,  claim  Thine  own ; 

More  than  Thy  seers  w^e  know  : 

Oh,  teach  our  love  to  grow 
Up  to  Thv  heavenly  light,  and  reap  what  Thou  hast  sown. 

Keble. 


WHITSUNDAY. 


When  God  of   old  came  down  from  Heaven, 

In  power  and  wrath  He  came ; 
Before  His  feet  the  clouds  were  riven, 

Half  darkness  and  half  flame. 

Around  the  trembling  mountain's  base 

Tlie  prostrate  people  lay  ; 
A  day  of  wrath,  and  not  of  grace, — 

A  dim  and  dreadful  day. 


WHITSU^^DAV.  227 

But  when  He  came  the  second  time, 

He  came  in  power  and  love ; 
Softer  than  gale  at  morning  prime 

Hovered  His  holy  Dove. 

The  fires  that  rushed  on  Sinai  down 

In  sudden  torrents  dread, 
Now  gently  light,  a  glorious  crown, 

On  every  sainted  head. 

Like  arrows  went  those  lightnings  forth, 

Winged  with  the  sinner's  doom, 
But  these,  like  tongues,  o'er  all  the  earth 

Proclaimincr  life  to  come  : 


And  as  on  Israel's  awe-struck  ear 

The  voice  exceeding  loud. 
The  trump,   that  angels  quake  to  hear. 

Thrilled  from  the  deep,  dark  cloud  : 

So  when  the  Spirit  of  our  God 
•Came  down  His  flock  to  find, 

A  voice  from  Heaven  was  heard  abroad, 
A  rushing,  mighty  wind. 

Nor  doth  the  outward  ear  alone 

At  that  high  warning  start : 
Conscience  gives  back  the  appalling  tone 

'Tis  echoed  in  the  heart. 


228  SONGS    OF    PEAISK. 

It  fills  the  Church  of  God ;    it  fills 

The  smful  world  .  around  ; 
Only  in  stubborn  hearts  and  wills 

ISTo  place  for  it  is  found. 

To  other  strains  our  souls  are  set ; 

A  giddy  whirl  of  sin 
Fills  ear  and  brain,  and  will  not  let 

Heaven's  harmonies  come  in. 

Come  Lord,  come  Wisdom,  Love,  and  Power, 

Open  our  ears  to  hear ; 
Let  us  not  miss  the  accepted  hour , 

Save,  Lord,  by  Love  or  Fear. 

Keble. 


JOY  IN   HEAVEN. 

Theee  was  joy  in  Heaven  ! 
There  was   joy  in  Heaven  ! 
When  this  goodly  world  to  frame 
The  Lord  of  might  and  mercy  came 
Shouts  of  joy  were  heard  on  high, 
And  the  stars  sang  from  the  sky, 
"  Glory  to  God  in  Heaven  I" 


JOY    IN    EEAVEN.  229 

There  was  joy  in  Heaven  ! 
There  was  joy  in  Heaven  ! 
When  the  billows,  heaving  dark. 
Sank  around  the  stranded  ark, 
And  the  rainbow's  watery  span 
Spake  of  mercy,  hope  to  man, 
And  peace  with  God  in  Heaven ! 

There  was  joy  in  Heaven ! 
There  was  joy  in  Heaven ! 
When  of   love  the  midnight  beam 
Dawned  on  the  towers  of   Bethlehem ; 
And  along  the  echoing  hill 
Angels  sang,   "On  earth  good  will, 
And  glory  in  the  Heaven  I" 

There  is  joy  in  Heaven  ! 
There  is   joy  in  Heaven  ! 
When  the  sheep  that  went  astray 
Turns  again  to  virtue's  way  ; 
When  the  soul,  by  grace  subdued, 
Sobs  its  prayer  of   gratitude, 
Then  is  there  joy  in  Heaven  ! 

Heber. 


68 


230  SOIsGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  LILIES. 

Sweet  nurslings  of  the  vernal  skies, 

Bathed  in  soft  airs,  and  fed  with  dew. 
What  more  than  magic  in  you  lies. 

To  fill  the  heart's  fond  view? 
In  childhood's  sports,   companions  gay, 
In  sorrow,   on  Life's  downward  way. 
How  soothing !    in  our  last  decay 
Memorials  prompt  and  true. 

Relics  ye  are  of  Eden's  bowers. 
As  pure,   as  fragrant,  and  as  fair 

As  when  ye  crowned  the  sunshine  hours 
Of  happy  wanderers  there. 

Fallen  all  beside, — the  world  of   life, 

How  is  it  stained  with  fear  and  strife  ! 

In  Reason's  world  what  storms  are  rife, 
What  passions  range  and  glare  ! 

But  cheerful  and  unchanged  the  while 
Your  first  and  perfect  form  ye  show, 

The  same  that  won  Eve's  matron  smile 
In  the  world's  opening  glow. 


THE    LILIES.    ■  231 

The  stars  of  heaven  a  course  are  taught 
Too  high  above  our  human  thought- 
Ye  may  be  found  if  ye  are  sought, 
And  as  we  gaze,  we  know. 

Ye  dwell  beside  our  paths  and  homes. 
Our  paths  of   sin,  our  homes  of   sorrow, 

And  guilty  man,  where'er  he  roams. 
Your  innocent  mirth  may  borrow. 

The  birds  of  air  before  us  fleet, 

They  cannot  brook  our  shame  to  meet; 

But  w^e  may  taste  your  solace  sweet 
And  come  again  to-morrow. 

Ye  fearless  in  your  nests  abide  ; 

Nor  may  we  scorn,   too  proudly  wise, 
Your  silent  lessons,  undescried 

By  all  but  lowly  eyes ; 
For  ye  could  draw  the  admiring  gaze 
Of  Him  who  worlds  and  hearts  surveys : 
Your  order  wild,  your  fragrant  maze, 

He  taught  us  how  to  prize. 

Ye  felt  your  Maker's  smile  that  hour. 

As  when  he  paused  and  owned  you  good  ; 

His  blessing  on  earth's  primal  bower, 
Ye  felt  it  all  renewed. 

What  care  ye  now,  if  winter's  storm 

Sweep  ruthless  o'er  each  silken  form  ^ 

Christ's  blessing  at  your  heart  is  warm, 
Ye  fear  no  vexing  mood. 


232 


SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 


Alas !    of  thousand  bosoms  kind, 
That  daily  court  you  and  caress, 

How  few  the  happy  secret  find 
Of  your  calm  loveliness ! 

"Live  for  to-day!    to-morrow's  light 

To-morrow's  cares  shall  bring  to  sight ; 

Go  sleep  like  closing  flowers  at  night, 
And  Heaven  thy  morn  will   bless." 

Keble. 


ST.    STEPHEN.  233 


ST.   STEPHEN. 

The  Son  of  God  goes  forth  to  war, 

A  kingly  crown  to  gain : 
His  blood-red  banner  streams  afar : 

Who  follows  in  His  train? 

Who  best  can  drink  his  cup  of   woe, 

Triumphant  over  pain, 
Who  patient  bears  his  cross  below. 

He  follows  in  His  train  ! 

The  martyr  first,  whose  eagle  eye 
Could  pierce  beyond  the  grave  ; 

Who  saw  his  Master  in  the  sky, 
And  called  on  Him  to  save. 

Like  Him,  with  pardon  on  his  tongue 

In  midst  of   mortal  pain, 
He  prayed  for  them  that  did  the  wrong ! 

Who  follows  in  his  train  ? 

A  glorious  band,  the  chosen  few 

On  whom  the  Spirit  came  ; 
Twelve  valiant  saints,  their  hope  they  knew 

And  mocked  the  cross  and  flame. 

59 


234  SONGS   OF   PEAISE. 

Tliey  met  the  tyrant's  brandished  steel, 

The  Hon's  gory  mane  ; 
They  bowed  their  necks  the  death  to  feel '. 

Who  follows  in  their  train  ? 

A  noble  army, — men  and  boys, 

The  matron  and  the  maid, 
Around  the  Saviour's  throne  rejoice, 

In  robes  of  light  arrayed. 

They  climbed  the  steep  ascent  of   Heaven, 
Through  peril,  toil,  and  pain ! 

0  God,  to  us  may  grace  be  given 
To  follow  in  their  train  ! 

Heber. 


PRAYER  AT  THE  POLE. 

A  LITTLE  group  of  worn-out  men, 

With  weary  limbs  and  shattered  forms, 

Whose  stalwart  wills  and  gallant  hearts 
Were  strong  to  face  dark  danger's  storms! 

And  one  amidst  them,  slight  of  frame, 
And  pale  from  strife  with  death  and  pain, 


PEAYER    AT    THE    POLE. 


235 


A  hero's  soul,  whose  martyr  zeal 

Bore  nobly  suffering's  cankering  chain 


They  met  within  the  solemn  aisles 
Of  ice-built  shrine,  a  temple  grand, 

Alone  upon  a  frozen  sea, 

The  saving  and  the  rescued  band, 

Mid  crystal  columns  reared  aloft 

Against  a  gray  and  cloud-draped  dome. 


236  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

The  only  thing — that  shadowed  sky — 
In  all  the  waste  that  looked  like  home  ! 

They  stood  with  bowed,  uncovered  heads, 

With  reverent  mien  and  moistened  eyes, 
Remembering  scenes  that  long  had  passed, 

Recalling  love's  most  tender  ties, 
As  softly  on  the  keen,  cold  air 

Their  leader's  voice  rose  calm  and  clear, 
And  raised,  like  prophet's  tone,  the  hope 

That  in  each  heart  had  found  a  bier. 

Few  words  of  humble,  grateful  praise, 

For  guidance,  life,  and  rest,  a  prayer, 
A  low  "Amen"  from  quivering  lips, 

Were  all  the  pomps  of  service  there ! 
It  gave  them  strength  to  conquer  death ; 

It  made  them  brave  to  dare  and  do  ; 
.  It  kept  them  faithful  to  the  end, 

A  band  of  brothers,  tried  and  true  ! 

Then  bless  them,  souls  of    Christian  men 

O'er  all  the  earth  who  praise  and  pray ; 
And  bless  him  most  of  all,  their  chief, 

Who  first  in  duty  led  the  way, — 
Who  first  upon  those  regions  drear 

Of   frozen,  unknown  waters  spoke 
The  name  of   Christ,   whose  world-blest  sound 

The  solitude  of   silence  broke  ! 

Those  polar  mounts  of   ice  may  melt 
Beneath  the  Arctic's  summer  skies ; 


ST.  AGNES'    EVE.  237 

May  speed  the  nations'  hoarded  weaUh, 
And  'neath  the  tropics  ebb  and  rise  ; 

Yet  bear  abroad,  where'er  they  flow, 
That  baptism  of   the  holy  oS^ame 

They  echoed  from  his  voice  who  died 
And  left  those  bergs  to  spread  his  fame  ! 

Sallie  Bridges. 


ST.  AGNES'   EVE. 

Deep  on  the  convent-roof  the  snows 

Are  sparkling  to  the  moon  : 
My  breath  to  heaven  like  vapor  goes: 

May  my  soul  follow  soon  ! 
The  shadows  of   the  convent-towers 

Slant  down  the  snowy  sward, 
Still  creeping  with  the  creeping  hours 

That  lead  me  to  my  Lord  : 
Make  Thou  my  spirit  pure  and  clear 

As  are  the  frosty  skies, 
Or  this  first  snowdrop  of   the  year 

That  in  my  bosom  lies. 

As  these  white  robes  are  soiled  and  dark, 
To  yonder  shining  ground ; 

60 


238  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

As  this  pale  taper's  earthly  spark, 

To  yonder  argent  round ; 
So  shows  my  soul  before  the  Lamb, 

My  spirit  before  Thee ; 
So  in  mine  earthly  house  I  am, 

To  that  I  hope  to  be. 
Break  up  the  heavens.  0  Lord,  and  far, 

Through  all  yon  starlight  keen, 
Draw  me,  Thy  bride,  a  glittering  star. 

In  raiment  white  and  clean. 

He  lifts  me  to  the  golden  doors  ; 

The  flashes  come  and  go ; 
All  Heaven  bursts  her  starry  floors, 

And  strews  her  lights  below, 
And  deepens  on  and  up !    the  gates 

Roll  back,  and  far  within 
For  me  the  heavenly  Bridegroom  waits, 

To  make  me  pure  of  sin. 
The  sabbaths  of  Eternity, 

One  sabbath  deep  and  wide ; 
A  light  upon  the  shining  sea, — 

The  Bridegroom  with  His  bride ! 

Tennyson. 


PRAISE.  239 


PRAISE. 

Praise  the  Lord ! 
Praise  Him  from  the  heavens  on  high  ! 
Praise  Him  in  the  lofty  sky  I 
Praise  Him,  all  ye  angels  bright ! 
Praise  Him,  all  His  hosts  of  light  I 
Praise  Him,  sun  and  moon  afar  I 
Praise  Him,  every  radiant  star ! 

Praise  Him,  heavens  that  heavens  upbear 

Waters,  higher  hung  in  air ; 

Let  them  praise  their  Maker's  name ; 

For  He  called  them,  and  they  came  : 

He  has  fixed  their  places  fast. 

With  a  bound  which  ne'er  was  passed. 

Praise  the  Lord  from  earth  below, 
Monsters,  through  the  deep  that  go  ; 
Fire,  and  cloud,   and  snow,  and  hail. 
And  the  obedient  stormy  gale  ; 
Mountains,  and  the  highlands  all ; 
Fruitful  trees,  and  cedars  tall ; 


240  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Beasts  that  field  or  forest  bore  ; 
Worms  that  creep,  and  birds  tliat  soar ; 
Kings,  and  men  of   humble  birth  ; 
Princes,  judges  of   the  earth  ; 
Youths  and  virgins,   flourishing 
In  the  beauty  of  your  spring; 

You  who  bow  with  age's  weight, 
You  who  were  but  born  of   late  ; 
Heaven  and  earth  with  due  consent, 
Praise  His  name  most  excellent ;     - 
He  His  saints  to  Him  shall  rear, 
Israel,  to  the  Lord  so  dear. 
Praise  the  Lord  ! 


THE  HOLY  SEPULCHRE. 

Then  hallowed  peace  renewed  her  wealthy  reign. 
Then  altars  smoked,  and  Sion  smiled  again. 
There  sculptured  gold  and  costly  gems  were  seen. 
And  all  the  bounties  of  the  British  queen ; 
There  barbarous  kings  their  sandalled  nations  led, 
And  steel-clad  champions  bowed  the  crested  head. 
There,  when  her  fiery  race  the  desert  poured, 
And  pale  Byzantium  feared  Medina's  sword, 
When  coward  Asia  shook  in  trembling  woe, 
And  bent  appalled  before  the  Bactrian  bow ; 
From  the  moist  regions  of  the  western  star 
The  wanderin";  hermit  waked  the  storm  of  war. 


THE    HOLY    SEPULCHRE. 


241 


Their  limbs  all  iron,  and  their  souls  all  flame, 
A  countless  host,  the  red-cross  warriors  came. 


61 


242  SONGS   OF   PEAISE. 

E'en  hoary  priests  the  sacred  combat  wage, 
And  clothe  in  steel  the  palsied  arm  of  age ; 
While  beardless  youths  and  tender  maids  assume 
The  weighty  morion  and  the  glancing  plume. 
In  sportive  pride  the  warrior  damsels  wield 
The  ponderous  falchion,  and  the  sun-like  shield, 
And  start  to  see  their  armor's  iron  gleam 
Dance  with  blue  lustre  in  Tabaria's  stream. 

The  blood-red  banner  floating  o'er  their  van, 
All  madly  blithe  the  mingled  myriads  ran :     ^ 
Impatient  Death  beheld  his  destined  food, 
And  hovering  vultures  snuffed  the  scent  of  blood. 


Yet  still  destruction  sweeps  the  lonely  plain. 
And  heroes  lift  the  generous  sword  in  vain. 
Still  o'er  her  sky  the  clouds  of  anger  roll, 
And  God's  revenge  hangs  heavy  on  her  soul. 
Yet  shall  she  rise,— but  not  by  war  restored. 
Not  built  in  murder, — planted  by  the  sword  : 
Yes,  Salem,  thou  shalt  rise :    thy  Father's  aid 
Shall  heal  the  wound  His  chastening  hand  has  made; 
Shall  judge  the  proud  oppressor's  ruthless  sway. 
And  burst  his  brazen  bonds,  and  cast  his  cords  away. 
Then  on  your  tops  shall  deathless  verdure  spring. 
Break  forth,  ye  mountains,  and  ye  valleys,  sing! 
No  more  your  thirsty  rocks  shall  frown  forlorn, 
The  unbeliever's  jest,  the  heathen's  scorn. 


THE    HOLY    SEPULCHRE.  243 

The  sultry  sands  shall  tenfold  harvest  yield, 
And  a  new  Eden  deck  the  thorny  field. 
E'en  now,  perchance,  wide-waving  o'er  the  land, 
That  mighty  angel  lifts  his  golden  wand, 
Courts  the  bright  vision  of  descending  power. 
Tells  every  gate,  and  measures  every  tower ; 
And  chides  the  tardy  seals  that  yet  detain 
Thy  Lion,'  Judah,  from  His  destined  reign. 

And  who  is  He?   the  vast,  the  awful  form, 
Girt  with  the  whirlwind,  sandalled  with  the  storm  ? 
A  western  cloud  around  His  limbs  is  spread. 
His  crown  a  rainbow,  and  a  sun  His  head. 
To  highest  Heaven  He  lifts  His  kingly  hand. 
And  treads  at  once  the  ocean  and  the  land ; 
And,  hark !     His  voice  amid  the  thunder's  roar. 
His  dreadful  voice,  that  time  shall  be  no  more  ! 


Lo !    cherub  hands  the  golden  courts  prepare, 
Lo  !    thrones  arise,  and  every  saint  is  there  ; 
Earth's  utmost  bounds  confess  their  awful  sway, 
The  mountains  worship,  and  the  isles  obey ; 
Nor  sun  nor  moon  they  need, — nor  day,  nor  night  ;— 
God  is  their  temple,  and  the  Lamb  their  light : 
And  shall  not  Israel's  sons  exulting  come, 
Hail  the  glad  beam,  and  claim  their  ancient  home  ? 
On  David's  throne  shall  David's  offspring  reign. 
And  the  dry  bones  be  warm  with  life  again. 
Hark !    white-robed  crowds  their  deep  hosannas  raise, 
And  the  hoarse  flood  repeats  the  sound  of  praise ; 


244  SONGS   OF   PRAISE. 


Ten  thousand  harps  attune  the  mystic  song, 
Ten  thousand  thousand  saints  the  strain  prolong; 
"  Worthy  the  Lamb !    omnipotent  to  save, 
Who  .died,  who  lives,  triumphant  o'er  the  grave !" 


Hebee. 


PAKVUM  QUANDO  CERNO  DEUM. 

When  within  His  mother's  arms 
I  the  infant  God  behold. 

All  my  heart  the  vision  warms 
With  a  blessedness  untold. 

Leaps  He,  mother,  leaps  the  boy, 
Gazing  at  thy  holy  breast ; 

Kisses  with  a  smile  of  joy, 
Thousand  kisses,  fondly  prest! 

As  upon  the  stainless  skies 

Peaceful  hangs  the  new-born  sun. 

So  upon  thy  bosom  lies, 

Mother  pure,  thy  Holy  One. 

Ah  !    how  lovely  that  repose  ! 

Mother  with  the  infant  fair,- 
Twined  as  with  the  tender  rose 

Violet  and  lily  are. 


CHKIST    EISEN.  245 

Many  a  silent  clasp  of  bliss, 

Many  a  look  of  smiling  love ; 
As  the  flowers  the  meadow  kiss, 

As  the  starry  eyes  above. 

Oh,  if  one  such  loving  dart, 

Falling  on  that  mother  mild, 
May  but  fall  upon  my  heart, 

Infant  Jesus,  Holy  Child ! 

Washburn. 


CHRIST   RISEN. 

Gheist  rises ;  lightning-stricken  at  the  sight, 

The  armed  soldiery,  who  at  the  tomb 

Kept  their  unholy  watch,  and  walked  the  gloom, 
Fall  back,  their  faces  hid  in  dread  affright. 
And  like  the  scared  shadows  of  the  night 

Hasten  away ;    as  when  the  aerial  dome 

The  rising  moon  doth  suddenly  illume, 
With  silent  intervention  calm  and  bright 

Just  rising,   and  the  clouds  departing  fly. 
And  flying  feebly  catch  her  silver  ray. 

E'en  so  those  heathen  thoughts  which  held  their  sway 
And  ever  in  the  heart  were  hiding  nigh, 

f.2 


246  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

When  Christ  doth  visit  us,  before  His  way 
Shall  flee,  and  He  shall  fill  the  untroubled  sky. 

Christ  rises  !    not  alone,  with  Him  His  own 

Are  rising  from  their  graves,  and  burst  the  veil, 
And  look  again  on  this  their  earthly  jail, 

E'en  as  the  moon  doth  not  arise  alone. 

But  watchful  sentinels  attend  her  throne, 

Yet  love  that  they  themselves  should  fade  and  fail, 
In  her  surpassing  lustre  dim  and  pale, 

'Tis  thus  when  Christ  within  the  soul  made  known 
His  glorious  resurrection  shall  declare, 

His  love  and  light  shall  dissipate  the  gloom  ; 

Nor  shall  He  thither  unattended  come, 

But  all  the  graces  with  Him  make  their  home, 
When  He  the  darkness  of  the  soul  lays  bare. 
Fain  to  vouchsafe  His  gracious  presence  there. 


THE  REAPERS'  RETURN  HOME. 

Through  the  golden  tints  of  sunset, 
'Neath  the  glowing,  crimsoned  skies, 

With  each  smiling  face  uplifted. 

Where  their  work's  warm  flush  still  lies. 

All  the  reapers,  homeward  going, 
In  a  happy,  cheerful  throng. 


THE  REAPERS  RETURN  HOME. 


247 


With  gay  voices  sing  the  chorus 
Of   an  olden  harvest-song. 


They  have  mowed  the  waving  glory 
Of   the  ripe  and  bending  grain, 

Have  knelt  down  where  summer's  splendor 
Mid  the  aisle  of  sheaves  has  lain, 

And  have  gathered  up  the  richness 
Of  the  small  seed  sown  before, 


2i8  SONGS    OF    PRAISK. 

Then  with  glad  eyes  stood  rejoicing 
In  the  sure  and  garnered  store. 

Now  they  onward  wallv  together 

Through  the  green  and  pleasant  field, 
And  each  worker,  like  a  sceptre, 

His  sharp,  shining  scythe  doth  wield 
While  the  matrons  toss  their  infants 

To  the  measure  of  the  tune. 
Maidens,  wishing  o'er  their  shoulders, 

Watch  the  dim,  new-rising  moon. 

There  are  glances  shy  and  tender 

Under  manly,   sunburned  brows  ; 
There  are  blush ings  at  bold  whispers, 

And  fresh  murmurs  of   old  vows  ; 
There  are  laughters  free  and  ringing, 

Plucking  flowers  by  the  way, 
And  fond  clinging  of  hands  parted 

By  their  labor  all  the  day. 

Age  and  youth  and  careless  childhood 

Share  the  music  of  the  strain. 
As  they  wend  through  clover  fragrance 

Towards  their  waiting  homes  again, 
Where  the  night  unto  the  weary 

Will  give  slumber  without  dreams, 
And  bring  silence  with  deep  shadows, 

Till  another  mornino;  beams. 

There  is  reaping,   there  is  gathermg 
"For  us  all  upon  the  earth, 


THE    RETURN    HOME.  249 

And  tlie  sheaves  we  show  at  harvest 

Are  what  prove  each  spirit's  worth ! 
Let  us  do  our  work  so  bravely 

That  our  hearts  shall  sing  with  praise 
In  the  glow  of  heaven's  glory 

At  the  closing  of  our  days ! 
When  we  lie  down  for  our  resting 

In  our  last  home  dark  and  still, 
May  each  tried  soul  find  its  waking 

Where  Truth's  rays  the  mansions  fill! 

Sallie  Beidges. 


THE  RETURIsT  HOME. 

Safe  home,  safe  home  in  port ! 
Rent  cordage,  shattered  deck, 
Torn  sails,  provisions  short, 
And  only  not  a  wreck : 
But,  oh,  the  joy  upon  the  shore 
To  tell  our  voyage-perils  o'er ! 

The  prize,  the  prize  secure  ! 

The  athlete  nearly  fell : 
Bare  all  he  could  endure. 

And  bare  not  always  well : 

63 


250 


S02IGS    OF    PKAISE. 


But  he  may  smile  at  troubles  gone 
Who  sets  the  victor's  garland  on ! 


-^M 


No  more  the  foe  can  harm : 

No  more  of  leaguered  camp, 
And  cry  of  night-alarm, 
And  need  of  ready  lamp : 
And  yet  how  nearly  he  had  failed, — 
How  nearly  had  that  foe  prevailed ! 

The  lamb  is  in  the  fold 

In  perfect  safety  penned : 
The  lion  once  had  hold, 

And  thought  to  make  an  end. 
But  One  came  by  with  wounded  side, 
And  for  the  sheep  the  Shepherd  died. 

The  exile  is  at  home ! 

Oh,  nights,  and  days  of  tears, 


THE    RETUKN    HOME.  251 

Oh,  longings  not  to  roam, 

Oh,  sins,  and  doubts,  and  fears ! 
What  matter  now,  when  (so  men  say) 
The  King  has  wiped  those  tears  away? 

0  happy,  happy  Bride, 

Thy  widowed  hours  are  past, 
The  Bridegroom  at  thy  side, 
Thou  all  His  Own  at  last ! 
The  sorrows  of  thy  former  cup 
In  full  fruition  swallowed  up ! 

St.  Joseph  of  the  Studiuii. 


Lord,  what  a  change  within  us  one  short  hour 
Spent  in  Thy  presence  will  prevail  to  make ! 
What  heavy  burdens  from  our  bosoms  take, 
What  parched  grounds  refresh,  as  with  a  shower ! 
We  kneel,  and  all  around  us  seems  to  lower ; 
We  rise,  and  all,  the  distant  and  the  near. 
Stands  forth  in  sunny  outline,  brave  and  clear ; 
We  kneel  how  wea'k,  we  rise  how  full  of  power ! 
Why,  therefore,  should  we  do  ourselves  this  wrong, 
Or  others, — that  we  are  not  always  strong ; 
That  we  are  ever  overborne  with  care; 
Thc.t  we  sliould  ever  weak  or  heartless  be. 
Anxious  or  troubled,  when  with  us  in  prayer. 
And  joy,  and  strength,  and  courage,  are  with  Thee  ? 

Trench. 


252 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


ALTITUDO,  QUID   HIC  JACES  ? 


Height  of  heaven,  why  art  Thou  lying 

Cradled  in  a  stable  base? 
Maker  of  the  starry  torches, 

Hides  a  manger  cold  Thy  face? 


ALTITUDO,    QUID   HIC   JACES  ?  253 

Oh,  what  marvels  hast  Thou  lavished, 

Jesu,  upon  sinful  men ! 
Exiles  from  the  bliss  of  Eden, 

Yet  Thy  heart  hath  loved  again. 

Might  divine  becometh  weakness; 

Infinite  a  babe  could  be ; 
In  a  mortal  womb  imprisoned, 

Born behold  Eternity  ! 

Oh,  what  marvels  hast  Thou  lavished, 

Jesu,  upon  sinful  men ! 
Exiles  from  the  bliss  of  Eden, 
•    Yet  Thy  heart  hath  loved  again. 

Thou  with  childish  lips  wast  chno-inc^ 

To  the  stainless  Virgin's  breast; 
Tear-drops  from  Thine  eye  were  springincy, — 

Thou,  the  Joy  of  heaven  blest! 
Oh,  what  marvels  hast  Thou  lavished, 

Jesu,  upon  sinful  men ! 
Exiles  from  the  bliss  of  Eden, 

Yet  Thy  heart  hath  loved  again. 

Washburn. 


t)4 


254 


SOIsGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  PRODIGAL. 

Why  feedest  thou  on  husks  so  coarse  and  rude? 
I  could  not  be  content  with  angels'  food. 


How  earnest  thou  companion  to  the  swine? 

I  loathed  the  courts  of  heaven,  the  choir  divine. 


THE    PRODIGAL.  255 

Who  bade  thee  crouch  in  hovel  dark  and  drear? 
I  left  a  palace  wide  to  sojourn  here. 

Harsh  tyrant's  slave  who  made  thee,  once  so  free? 
A  father's  rule  too  heavy  seemed  to  me. 

What  sordid  rags  hang  round  thee  on  the  breeze? 
I  laid  immortal  robes  aside  for  these. 

An  exile  through  the  world  who  bade  thee  roam? 
None ;    but  I  wearied  of  a  happy  home. 

Why  must  thou  dweller  in  a  desert  be? 
A  garden  seemed  not  fair  enough  to  me. 

AYhy  sue  a  beggar  at  the  mean  world's  door? 
To  live  on  God's  large  bounty  seemed  so  poor. 

What  has  thy  forehead  so  to  earthward  brought? 
To  lift  it  higher  than  the  stars  I  thought. 

Trench. 


256 


SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


LUOIS  LARGITOR  SPLENDIDE. 


MATIN    HYMN    OF    ST.  AMBKOSE,    FOURTH    CENTURY. 


All-glorious  Giver  of  the  light, 

In  Whose  unclouded  ray, 
After  the  shadows  of  the  night, 

Blooms  the  new-risen  day  ! 

Thou  art  the  world's  true  morning  star 

Not  he,  that  lesser  one, 
Twinkling  a  feeble  speck  afar, 

Pale  herald  of  the  sun. 


LUCIS    LARGITOE   SPLENDIDE.  257 

0  brighter  than  the  noontide  gleam; 

Day,  sun  full-orbed  Thou  art, 
Piercing  with  Thine  eternal  beam 

The  cloisters  of  the  heart. 

Builder  of  living  worlds,  draw  nigh ! 

Smile  of  the  Father's  face ! 
Our  hapiDj  souls  wide  open  lie 

To  Thy  soft-coming  grace. 

Filled  with  Thy  Spirit,  may  we  keep 

God's  presence  aye  within'; 
I^OY  through  these  hallowed  portals  creep 

The  stealthy  feet  of  sin. 

Amid  thick-coming  cares,  that  fill 

The  hours  of  daily  time. 
Our  law  shall  be  Thy  perfect  will. 

Our  conscience  clear  of  crime  ! 

With  virgin  shame  may  the  chaste  mind 
•      Our  earth-born  passions  chain, 
And  in  this  body  pure  enshrined 
Thy  Holy  Ghost  remain. 

Be  this  glad  hope  our  matin  song, 

This,  Lord,  our  sacrifice  I 
0  morning  light,  through  midnight  long 

Watch  with  unsleeping  eyes  ! 


Washburn. 

6.) 


258 


SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


NATURE  AND   GRACE. 

There  is  a  book,  who  runs  may  read, 
Which  heavenly  truth  imparts, 

And  all  the  lore  its  scholars  need, 
Pure  eyes  and  Christian  hearts. 


The  works  of   God  above,  below. 
Within  us,  and  around, 


NATURE    AND    GRACE.  259 

Are  pages  in  that  book,  to  show 
How  God  Himself  is  found. 

The  glorious  sky  embracing  all 

Is  like  the  Maker's  love, 
Wherewith  encompassed,  great  and  small 

In  peace  and  order  move. 

The  Moon  above,  the  Church  below, 

A  wondrous  race  they  run ; 
But  all  their  radiance,  all  their  glow, 

Each  borrows  of  its  Sun. 

The  Saviour  lends  the  light  and  heat 

That  crowns  His  holy  hill ; 
The  saints,  like  stars,  around  His  seat 

Perform  their  courses  still. 

The  saints  above  are  stars  in  Heaven : 

What  are  the  saints  on  earth? 
Like  trees  they  stand  whom  God  has  given, 

Our  Eden's  happy  birth. 

« 

Faith  is  their  fixed  unswerving  root, 

Hope  their  unfading  flower. 
Fair  deeds  of   charity  their  fruit. 

The  glory  of  their  bower. 

The  dew  of  Heaven  is  like  Thy  grace, 
It  steals  in  silence  down ; 


2(50  SONGS   OF    PEAISE. 

But  where  it  lights,  the  favored  place 
By  richest  fruits  is  known. 

One  Name  above  all  glorious  names, 
AVith  its  ten  thousand  tongues. 

The  everlasting  sea  proclaims. 
Echoing  angelic  songs. 

The  raging  Fire,  the  roaring  Wind, 
Thy  boundless  power  display : 

But  in  the  gentler  breeze  we  find 
Thy  Spirit's  viewless  way. 

Two  worlds  are  ours :    'tis  only  Sin 

Forbids  us  to  descry 
The  mystic  heaven  and  earth  within, 

Plain  as  the  sea  and  sky. 

Thou,  who  hast  given  me  eyes  to  see 
And  love  this  sight  so  fair, 

Give  me  a  heart  to  find  out  Thee 
And  read  Thee  everywhere. 

Keble. 


EECORDAKE    SANCT^    CEUCIS.  261 


RECORDARE  SANCTiE  CRUCIS. 

BONAVENTUKA,    THIETEENTH    CENTUEY. 

PoNDEE  thou  the  cross  all-holy, 
Who  wilt  tread  the  pathway  lowly 

To  the  perfect  joy  above  : 
Thou  the  lioly  cross  aye  ponder, 
And,  with  an  uncloying  wonder, 

Drink  its  mysteries  of  love. 

When  thou  toilest,  when  thou  sleepest, 
When  thou  smilest,  when  thou  weepest, 

Sad  or  gladsome  if  thou  art, 
In  thy  coming,  in  thy  going, 
AVhether  pain  or  solace  knowing, 

Keep  the  cross  within  thy  heart. 

In  the  cross,  mid  burdens  aching, 
Heaviest  waves  above  thee  breakino;, 
Thine  unending  comfort  find  : 

66 


262  S0NG5  OF    PPwilSE. 

Though  midst  cruel  foes  thou  languish, 
Sweet  the  cross  in  every  anguish, 
Refuge  of  the  pious  mind. 

Cross,  of  Paradise  the  portal, 

Where  have  clung  the  souls  immortal, 

Victors  in  this  earthly  strife ; 
Holy  cross,  the  whole  world's  healing ; 
By  it  is  God's  love  revealing 

Marvels  of  eternal  life. 

Cross  of   Christ,  the  soul's  well  being, 
Light  unshadowed  for  our  seeing, 

For  the  heart  its  sweetest  good ; 
Cross,  the  life  all  saints  indwelling, 
Storehouse  of  all  gifts  excelling. 

Beauty  and  beatitude. 

Cross,  the  glass  of  brave  endeavor ; 
Leader  of   our  triumph  ever ; 

Hope  the  faithful  to  inspire  ; 
Badge  of  the  elect  of  heaven ; 
Succor  in  our  trial  given ; 

Fulness  of  the  soul's  desire. 

Cross,  the  tree  in  beauty  growing, 
Hallowed  by  Christ's  life-blood  flowing, 

Hanging  with  full-ripened  load ; 
Bounty  for  all  spirits  bearing, 
An  immortal  banquet  sharing 

With  the  blessed  sons  of  God. 


ALL    A^^GELS.  263 

Crucified,  oh,  make  me  stronger. 
While  my  life  is  spared  me  longer, 

Still  to  know  Thy  suffering ; 
With  Thee  wounded,  with  Thee  dying, 
To  that  Form  before  me  lying 

On  the  holy  cross  I  cling. 

Washburn. 


ALL  AXGELS. 

THOMAS   A  KEMPIS,    FOUETEEXTH    CENTURY. 

Ever  stand  the  ano;el  throng, 

Lauding  God  in  holy  song ; 

Gazing  on  their  glorious  King, 

With  the  heart,  the  voice  they  sing ; 

Harp-notes  flinging,  timbrels  ringing, 

Now  on  golden  plumes  upspringing. 

Climbing  on  the  heavenly  stair ; 

Sweet  bells  blending,  white-robed  bending 

Near  the  highest  Trinity ; 

Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  crying : 

Flieth  sorrow,  ceaseth  sighing, 

In  that  city  of  the  sky. 


264  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Mingled  are  ajl  happy  voices, 
One  that  in  their  God  rejoices ; 
Love  in  every  mind  is  burning, 
In  pure  vision  upward  turning 

To  the  Eternal  One,  the  Blessed  Trine. 
All  the  glowing  seraphim 
With  a  heart  of  fire  adore  Him ; 
All  the  keen-eyed  cherubim 
Veil  their  faces  low  before  Him  : 

Awed  the  Thrones  behold  the  Majesty  divine. 

Oh,  how  wonderful  that  region  ! 
Oh,  how  beautiful  that  legion ! 
Men  with  angels  ever  bright! 
Shining  city,  aye  in  thee 
Reigneth  full  tranquillity, — 
In  thy  borders  peace  and  light. 
Dwellers  of  this  city  fair 
Garments  white  of   chasteness  wear ; 
In  one  household  of  sweet  love. 
One  unbroken  circle  move. 
Naught  of  darkness,  naught  of   care, 
Grief,  temptation,  haunteth  there  : 
Free  from  sickness,  ever  blest. 
Theirs  of  every  good  the  best. 

.    .  Washburn. 


THE    END. 


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